The Eyes Have It
by In Dreams
Summary: Hermione finds herself spending an unusual amount of time observing a certain Slytherin male. Perhaps willing him to notice her back is not the wisest plan of action. HGBZ.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there! I'd like to say this is something new, but truthfully it's been sitting in my writing folder for... well, a couple years at least. It's a sidestep from my usual Draco/Hermione... but there came a point in time where I fell completely head over heels for fanon Blaise and eventually started my own story about him and of course, my girl Hermione. That being said, then, this is incompatible with Deathly Hallows, and most likely Half-Blood Prince as well.

I wanted to keep writing this, as I'm nearly completed five chapters already, but figured I should at least test the waters and see if there's anyone out there who would be interested in reading it. I am plotting chapter 8 of Fidelity's Fleece, and the next chapter of Catalyst has been a work in progress for ages, so this isn't the only thing on my agenda.

Please, if you enjoy, let me know. There is nothing quite like feedback by way of reviews, though I've noticed people don't particularly like to review stories anymore... I guess that's just me coming from the old school . Regardless, it would be much appreciated, and reviews will make me more willing to put up the second chapter, which contains quite a bit more Blaise :)

Oh, and I suppose I should disclaim, I don't own anything!

That's all.

* * *

She was watching him again. Her gaze was caught, transfixed, on his graceful figure as he entered the Great Hall. Her hand froze, the goblet of pumpkin juice on its way to her lips neglected. Swallowing heavily, she set the glass down, thirst forgotten.

She averted her gaze, staring disinterestedly at her fork. Had she been in control of her own mind, she might have noticed the fork moving slowly up, her gaze following it.

Bitterly, she set the fork down as her eyes fell upon him once more. She just didn't have the willpower to force herself to look somewhere else, anywhere else.

He was laughing, and her ears automatically tuned in. It was beautiful, melodious, deep. Settling into a seat on the benches at a table across the hall, he selected a slice of toast, placing it meticulously upon his plate, spreading it with orange marmalade.

Her eyes followed his hands intently, his movements precise and calculated, yet soft.

His lips parted, to speak, and God how she wished she could hear his voice. His lips pursed into a smirk as his companions laughed. He took a bite of his toast, chewing carefully with his mouth closed. Such etiquette, so unlike Ron sitting next to her. Such was to be expected, having grown up in a devoutly pureblooded mansion.

Finishing his less than substantial breakfast, he drew a text from his shoulder bag, setting it on the table in front of him. His eyes flickered back and forth across the page, his brow furrowing in confusion. He set an elbow on the table, his hand burying itself deep into his dark hair.

She wished she were the book, to gain such attention. To be the person sitting next to him. To be someone so worthy of his attention would be unimaginable, for him to toss careless remarks to. To share them back with him.

Her eyes itched, and she blinked, looking away once more. Her pride burned, there was nothing she could do. No way to force herself to believe there was nothing for her in watching him. It was just what she did.

When she next looked up, it was to see him going past, his book tucked back into his bag, his pace fast enough not to be considered leisurely. She openly started, unprepared for him to walk so close. She so badly wanted to follow.

His robes were draped over his bag, as was typical for the warmer summer months. His expensive trousers were pressed and wrinkle-free, the top two buttons open on his crisp white shirt. His green and silver tie was loosened.

She knew he was probably studying in preparation for his NEWTs, much as she had been for months. He was disheveled; she presumed he wasn't quite getting as much sleep as he needed. His eyes would never betray him, never produce dark circles as hers might.

"Hey, you alright Hermione?" Ginny asked, staring concernedly. Her gaze tore away to the redhead on the other side of her.

"What?" She blinked, squeezing her eyes tightly shut momentarily. "Oh, yes. I'm fine."

And he was gone.

Sometimes Hermione wished she had never noticed him to begin with. This... system of observation she was currently trapped in was highly distracting. She refused to allow herself to call it an obsession.

He was in a great number of her advanced seventh year classes, some in which she had neither Harry or Ron to work with. Aside from a number of other students she had never gotten to know overly well, it was often her and them.

Them being the Slytherin duo, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. A great pair of enigmas, she thought of them.

And while the rest of the female population of Hogwarts worshipped Draco Malfoy, Hermione was torn. Because to her, Draco wasn't all that difficult to figure out.

Sure, it was always a question of where his alliance truly lied, at least to Hermione, but he was, for the most part, a Pureblood. That was all there was to it. A pureblood by nature, by reputation, and by all means, by his lifestyle. He was thought to be superior and he believed it.

Draco Malfoy was intelligent but not wise. He was offensive, yes, but he never quite bothered to come up with new material. The same insults, the same insolent blond Slytherin. The same harsh grey eyes, the womanizing attributes, the need to prove himself as something more than what he merely was. The need, which Hermione wasn't certain he would ever fulfill. She almost felt bad for him.

After having worked with Draco Malfoy for most of her seventh year as Head Girl and Boy, she knew all that she needed to know about him. She had him down to a tee, a concrete image, one she hardly wanted to care for. There were times when he was tolerable, but then again, Hermione thought that even a blast-ended skrewt could be tolerable if it tried hard enough.

But Blaise... oh, Blaise. Blaise was the one Hermione dreamed of through lonely nights, the one she pictured as she allowed herself to drift while she pored over the most boring of her studies in the library. The one she wanted to understand.

How the two of them had become best friends, she had trouble imagining. She presumed it to be something idealized, some sort of Pureblooded rule of society. Some sickeningly inbred tradition; purebloods with purebloods, above all others.

Or perhaps, and she chose to believe this version, the two had some inexplicable bond, much like she had with Harry and Ron. Something unexpected. But that was the magic of friendship. Of course, she would never admit something so utterly cheesy to either of them.

Blaise was the actual curiosity in her mind; she found him to be mystifying, a conundrum, and quite truthfully, gorgeous.

The way his dark hair complemented his tanned skin, and how chunks fell in his dark, penetrative eyes. And on the day of an exam or when an essay was due, his hair was always a little messier. Somehow the procrastination attribute of his personality only appealed to Hermione more. He was so unlike her.

To Hermione, Blaise was the epitome of a man. His shoulders broad, his features sculpted. He had a strong jaw, a straight nose, full lips. His smile, though rare, could definitely capture her whole-hearted attention.

And his deep accent made her simply melt. She knew he was from Italy, though had never learned from what part, or how he came to be in Great Britain. But that was alright with her; just the fact that he was there was enough.

He was so silent, so content to be behind the scenes, to let Draco take the attention. Blaise had probably never spoken more than a dozen words to Hermione, and yet she had fabricated her own beliefs about nearly every aspect of his life.

Hermione thought he was probably trustworthy. Although not overly trusting, unless one was gifted with his trust.

She knew he was smart, he did well enough in classes, but there was a casual aloofness to his persona that led Hermione to believe that Blaise would do just fine on his own if he needed to. He was the type to have a brain full of common-sense, general knowledge, and a bit of specific information on his favourite topics as well.

She knew there would probably never be a chance for her to speak to him, to get to know him, learn all there was to learn about him. He was an unattainable topic, and it drove her mad knowing there was something she had become so fixated on that she couldn't simply research in a book. That was part of the reason she found herself so inexplicably drawn to a Slytherin.

But what she wouldn't have given for a chance. It was her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, the war was looming ever closer, and she so desperately longed for a distraction. And not just any distraction.

And so she watched him. She followed him with her eyes, when her feet could not. And she learned what she could, knowing it would never be enough.

As Hermione sat down at her usual table in the back of the library after classes that day, she felt her nerves slowly begin to dissipate. No one usually ventured this far back into the library except for the occasional couple, seeking a rendezvous. But even that occurrence had become less frequent as word got around that the Head Girl spent the majority of her time in the far end.

Not that Hermione was bothered by that. She didn't want to see underaged students involved in that _sort_ of activity any more than they wanted to be caught. And it gave her plenty of invaluable silent study time. She personally felt that no one else knew just how soft the chairs back there were.

She drew her Arithmancy book and a blank sheet of parchment from her bag, spreading it generously across the table. Chewing momentarily on the end of her quill as she read the assignment, she set to work, scribbling furiously, unaware that she had company.

"I told him _obviously_ I was aware of that, and what did he take me for, some sort of halfwit, and _of course_ he–" a loud voice entered the proximity and Hermione jerked her head up, clearing her throat angrily. The voice paused.

Hermione sighed, knowing she'd recognize that haughty drawl anywhere.

"Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind keeping it down," she called through the nearest row of shelves. The blond shoved his head out into the aisle to see her, his grey eyes narrowed.

"Oh Granger, I thought you knew by now this library isn't your private area of the school," he muttered, emerging entirely from the shelves.

"_Really_, Malfoy? And here I was mistaken for all those years?" She mocked. "Honestly, I–" she froze, her voice cutting out on her as another figure walked out from the aisles, apparently still browsing the titles. A certain Italian figure. She swallowed heavily, forgetting what she had been saying. Malfoy snorted, taking a seat at a table irritatingly close to hers.

"You aren't the only one who appreciates silence from time to time, Granger." Her eyes were drawn back to the blond's companion, ignoring his words. The brunette had selected a book from the shelves and walked over to Draco's table, pulling out a chair, lazily taking a seat.

Hermione tore her eyes away, falling back into her work begrudgingly, still aware of the two Slytherins in her close vicinity. She had almost been able to ignore their presence entirely when she caught a shock of blond hair in her peripheral vision and glanced over to see Malfoy staring at her.

"Hey Granger, let me see your notes from Runes this morning," he requested.

"Are you joking, Malfoy? Why would I give you my notes? I'd never get them back," she shot at him, continuing her essay.

"I just need to copy them Granger," he replied, exasperated. "I wasn't in a note-taking mood earlier."

"Oh I see," Hermione said lightly. "So that must be reason enough for me to give you something you don't deserve. You didn't _feel_ like it."

He nodded at her acclamation, though she knew her sarcasm was not lost on him.

"You've got it exactly. Just let me borrow them."

Hermione huffed angrily, attempting to ignore the blond. However she looked back over as Draco stood up, and her eyes momentarily locked with Blaise's. So caught up was she in his gaze that she almost didn't notice him roll his eyes in the youngest Malfoy's direction. His lips curved up with the slightest amount of humour. He shook his head and looked back down at his book, writing something in the margin of the text he was studying.

Hermione was stunned. Not only had Blaise just made eye contact with her, but he had engaged her in the ridicule of his best friend, if only minimal. She blinked, attempting to process the information, when she noticed Draco had crossed the room and was standing over her.

"It's just notes, Granger, no need to be so uptight," he scoffed.

"Fine, take them," she muttered distractedly, flipping through her notes and producing the sheets on Runes. Malfoy looked taken aback, as if he hadn't expected her to relent, and he quietly walked the notes back to his table, copied them and returned them.

She stifled the urge to laugh. Malfoy really was so predictable. She had given in with relative ease on his part, something he hadn't been expecting, and so he had no idea how to respond. At the moment, her brain was too numb from Blaise's actions to actually seize her chance to belittle the elitist.

When they left a while later, Hermione's brain was still buzzing with excitement and she was forced to put her work away and head to dinner. There was no way she'd be able to concentrate like this.

All through the year Hermione had been forced to do nightly patrols with the Head Boy, and all year neither her nor Draco had any inclination whatsoever to speak to each other as they did their duty to the school.

On one particular night, some weeks after the event in the library had occurred, he broke their code of silence. They met as usual outside of the Headmaster's office and he greeted her with a curt nod, more acknowledgment than she was used to receiving.

He didn't actually speak until they were nearly completed their rounds, searching in the last of the dungeons. It had been a rather boring evening.

"So Granger," he drawled, avoiding her eye contact, "you know Blaise Zabini, do you not?"

"I do," she replied formally. Inside she was itching to know what he was about to say.

"So you should understand that he's fairly smart?" he said. "Much like you and myself."

She had to wonder where he was going with this. And wonder did she ever. The Slytherin sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, I don't know how to say this. Blaise is a bit mad over his NEWTs; he needs a certain number of them to get this job in the Ministry that he's wanted since he was like nine, I don't particularly know what it is." He paused, looking to see if she was still listening. She was frozen, not sure what to expect.

"The thing is, Granger, Blaise and I share a worst class, transfiguration, which happens to be your best class. And the Ministry looks for transfiguration as one of the top NEWTs required. So I can't help him prepare if I don't even understand the material myself. You know it obviously _kills_ me to ask you this, but Blaise is my best friend, and he's requested I ask if you'd study transfiguration with the two of us once a week."

The blond's admittance had sped up as he spoke, and by the end Hermione was sure she had misheard him. Two Slytherins, two purebloods, wanted _her_ help with studying?

"Are you sure there aren't any Slytherins who do well in transfiguration?" She panicked. There wasn't really a way that she could possibly spend one evening a week with them, was there?

"Granger, have you ever taken a look at the sort of students we have in seventh year Slytherin?" She shrugged, not wanting to admit she saw his point. "You're the best, as horrible as it feels to say, and this is an issue where we're willing to shelf our pride if you are."

"To be entirely Slytherin with you, Malfoy, there's clearly nothing in this for me." She met his gaze for the first time, defiantly.

"True, I had hoped you'd be Gryffindor enough to do this out of the goodness of your heart and I wouldn't have to bring this up," he trailed off. He stared into the floor, trying to evince her conscience. She stared him down, not falling for his scheme.

"Cunning, Malfoy," she stated. "We all have our limits, and I really see no reason why I should help the pair of you."

"Alright Granger. What's in it for you, you ask? I should presume you mean _aside_ from spending time with Blaise and myself, something many women in this school would give anything for." She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"However, I know you better than that, and I understand that studying with the _both_ of us is not at the top of your list of priorities. Of course, I already know you'll do this, or you might be soon learning you aren't the only observant one in the school, Granger." His silver eyes met hers with a meaningful gaze and her eyes widened in horror. Surely he wasn't insinuating what she thought he was... was he?

And when he said both of them in that way, he didn't mean just one of them, did he?

She swallowed, finding herself completely trapped. Even if he was bluffing, she couldn't risk Blaise finding out, let alone Harry and Ron. She would be destroyed.

"My help for your silence, Malfoy?" she whispered, her voice failing her.

"Precisely, Granger," he purred back, giving her hand a silky shake before he stepped closer to the wall, murmured a password and was gone into the Slytherin common room.

She didn't notice that she was back at the Gryffindor common room, didn't notice herself quietly changing out of her uniform, and only when she laid in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling did she question what she had gotten herself into.

And what might have just begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Here it is, chapter two! Because you were all so kind in reviewing, and it pulled me away from the slump I was in at my other two recently updated stories receiving very few reviews. (Plenty of alert adds, but that isn't quite the same.) Regardless, I was thrilled with the response to this! This is my first foray into the world of Hermione and Blaise and I am very glad people would like to read more. I would hope that if you enjoy this you might review again, the sooner to get chapter 3 :) Thanks!  


* * *

At precisely a quarter to seven the following Thursday evening, Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, descending the halls of Hogwarts until she arrived in the Dungeons.

Stopping outside of the potions classroom, as had been pre-arranged, Hermione glanced around to see Malfoy leaning casually against the doorframe. His lips were pursed as he gazed at her, his eyes narrowed.

"Well, follow me I suppose," he murmured, leading her towards the Slytherin common room. She followed silently as he turned directly right from the entrance, walking up a spiraled staircase.

He stopped outside of a door labeled DM & BZ, saying a password under his breath before the door unlocked and they were allowed in.

"I wasn't aware that the two of you had your own commons, Malfoy," Hermione stated. Inside she was impressed. The Gryffindors would never do something like this.

"There are a lot of things, Granger, of which you are unaware. However, for the sake of time, we are rather here tonight to discuss what you do know," he replied indifferently. "Blaise should be here momentarily, if you'd like to take a seat."

Feeling somewhat out of place in the room decorated entirely in black, green and silver, she pulled up a chair to the large wooden table near the fire, beginning to lay out her transfiguration notes.

Malfoy also took a seat, and moments later a door swung open down a hallway and Blaise emerged, looking hurried. His hair was ruffled, his tie removed altogether, his shirt untucked.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized by way of greeting.

"No worries Blaise, Granger was just admiring the living quarters," Draco replied with a smirk.

"I was not," Hermione defied. The Italian Slytherin laughed and her insides squirmed.

"I can't imagine green is a very welcome colour for a seventh year Gryffindor?" he questioned.

"There's nothing wrong with the colour green, but that the room is almost entirely black is a tad bit unwelcoming," she answered truthfully as Blaise prepared his notes.

"We all done with the forced small talk?" Draco asked abruptly and Hermione flushed. Blaise just shrugged.

"Whatever mate. I do appreciate you agreeing to help," he said earnestly. "Not too sure how Malfoy convinced you."

"Oh, you know him," Hermione laughed nervously. "Manipulative, deceitful, cunning."

"Such compliments, Granger," Malfoy responded, his eyes cold.

Hermione sighed, proceeding to begin the lesson. She began with the most recent class, and soon found she was working with Zabini more so than Malfoy, who evidently had fewer problems with the course than with the instructor.

Watching the brunette struggle with the incantations made Hermione wish she had more experience with explaining the terms, as she was somewhat awkward as a teacher. But she tried her best, and by the time nine o'clock came around, Blaise had managed to understand a few main concepts, and had a firm grasp on some of the more advanced material.

Hermione was forced then to leave with Malfoy to perform their rounds of the school, although she would've been much more content to spend further time with Blaise.

However, as she walked the empty hallways, Malfoy's words merely bounced off of her, she was so deep in thought.

She had learned a significant deal about Zabini tonight that she otherwise never would have. For instance, he had a habit of running his fingers through his rich brown hair, messing it further each time. When frustrated, he would mutter Italian under his breath, and she had a suspicion it wasn't Italian comments about the weather. As well, he and Malfoy seemed to have a highly intuitive friendship with one another, and knew each other perhaps better than she had expected.

For some reason, this made her feel quite comfortable inside, and slightly warmer towards Malfoy.

Even his crude comments to her about Blaise hardly registered.

-

"Where'd you go last night Hermione?" Ron asked her the next morning at breakfast.

"Just to the library then out on patrols," she answered easily.

"That's what we thought," Harry broke in. "But Gin was there last night and she said she didn't see you." Hermione froze, part way through a bite of toast.

"I do know that library better than anyone, you realize. She may not have been looking in the right places," she teased after a pause. "Don't worry about me."

"You know we can't help it," Ron said, smiling sheepishly. She grinned back, shaking her head.

Without thinking, her gaze somehow landed on the Slytherin table, although something felt different when her eyes fell on Blaise. She fought back a smile, her eyes sparkling. Feeling another pair of eyes on her, she shifted to see Malfoy watching her, smirk prominent on his lips. He made a suggestive gesture at her and she rolled her eyes, looking away.

Walking to their first class, history of magic, the trio passed a group of Slytherins. Zabini gave Hermione the slightest of nods, which didn't fall short of Harry. He glanced around behind him, as if intending to see who the Slytherin was acknowledging, but merely shrugged when he found no one, passing it off as a trick of the mind.

Fortunately, Harry didn't notice her smile back.

In class, Hermione received a note. Unfolding it inconspicuously, she flushed as she read.

_Honestly Granger, be a little more obvious. It's a wonder the entire school doesn't know how badly you want him._

Picking up her quill, she scrawled a response.

_Tell anyone and our deal is off. Won't be so obvious if I sit back and allow him to fail, now will it?_

She sent the note back across the room, not concerned in the slightest of being caught out by Professor Binns.

_Touché, Granger._

She looked over at the blond, who made a motion of zipping his mouth shut, before smirking at her.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, trying to lean over her shoulder to read the note.

"Don't worry about it, Ron," she replied simply, going back to her note taking. Defeated, the redhead gave up, instead opting for a nap.

Somehow Hermione managed to survive the rest of the week, suffering Malfoy's taunts nightly. She found herself surprised at how few reservations he held of discussing his best friend in such a provocative, sexual manner.

And after what felt like months, it was Thursday once more, and Hermione found herself walking into the Slytherin common room again, ignoring the stares.

Again, the two hours raced past and Hermione found herself painfully unable to savour every moment spent in the company of Blaise Zabini. Before she realized, it was time to do patrols with Malfoy. She had noticed, much to her unexpected pleasure, that the blond had much more of an inclination to pay attention to her this week, and the pair of them had made great progress.

"You know Granger," Malfoy spoke that night for the first time near the end of their patrols. "Blaise is a rare Slytherin. I think he is mentally incapable of judgement, unless he's given reason to do so. God if we were all like that, I reckon you might not loathe me so."

She laughed, looking over at his smirk.

"I thought judgement was a standard Slytherin trait present at birth, like grasping and sucking, Malfoy," she replied, mocking astonishment.

"So did I," he said thoughtfully, pausing outside of a classroom. "But trust me, Blaise doesn't just take to anyone. You've got to earn his respect."

She felt suddenly uneasy.

"And if you lose an opportunity at his respect, you'll never get a second chance. As well, if you gain his trust and lose it, you'll be seen the worst sort of traitor." His deep grey eyes were intimidating to say the least, drilling into her mind.

"Why are you telling me this? It's clear I've got no chance, and you know that more than anyone, Malfoy," she said, trying to keep the spite from her voice.

"True, I do know Blaise better than anyone." He glanced over at her. "That doesn't mean we sit around sipping cocoa and sharing gossip twice a week. I don't know what goes on in Blaise's head any more than you do, but he's got a sense of honour I'd never want to dream of. I wouldn't say you have no chance."

Her stomach leapt to her throat, eyes wide with shock.

"But I also didn't say that you have a chance."

"Of course, it's not like you'd want me to have a chance anyway, right Malfoy?" She stopped, watching him closely, smiling.

"You add a sense of something to my life, Granger, though I've no clue what it is. And you keep my wit sharp." He continued walking, and Hermione suspected that was the closest to an acceptance he'd ever give her. She laughed, following after him.

The next morning, the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ was splashed with news of attacks from the Dark side. Tempers, along with nerves were running high all day around Gryffindor, and Hermione found herself frequently watching her back.

Something had been thrown into a shocking clarity for her. It destroyed her to wonder, but she realized she had to know. So she waited all day, sitting impatiently through her classes to get Malfoy alone for a moment to chat.

Yet, she had no success until ten o'clock that evening, when she met him at Dumbledore's office as usual. The curfew on Friday nights was extended by one hour.

"Malfoy, there's something I need to ask you," she stated uneasily.

"Walk and talk, Granger, this has gotta be quick, I've got a party to get to," he brushed her off.

"Oh, well," she trailed off, running a hand through her hair. "I've been wondering..."

Malfoy hurried ahead of her, quickly checking the rooms in a particular hallway. He stopped to award detention to several third years causing trouble in an empty classroom.

"What is it, Granger? You want to come to the party or something?" He laughed at his own joke.

"Just stop for a minute Malfoy, God," she broke in, causing him to stop in his tracks. "Is Blaise a Death Eater?"

There. She had said it, and though her stomach felt like tossing on her, she stood her ground, watching his expression neutralize.

"I don't... I don't think I could handle that." She swallowed heavily.

He flinched, and Hermione thought he almost looked conflicted.

"I cannot tell you the answer to that question," he finally said after a tense beat.

"That means yes, doesn't it?" she asked, feeling numb.

"Granger, that means there are some things you're better off not knowing. For your own sake, my sake, Blaise's sake."

"Look Malfoy, I understand you're both seventh year Slytherins. As naive as some may be, I understand there are probably a significant portion of you who have already devoted yourselves to Voldemort. Especially with the war in such close view," she stated, watching him closely. He betrayed no emotion, however.

"And I understand that you're a member of the Order of the Phoenix. As naive as you are not, I am perhaps even less, Granger," he said, ignoring her look of shock. "It's best if we keep anything linking us together this year strictly to our studies."

She hated the disappointment that flooded through her.

"Granger," he said, his tone dropping to a whisper. He glanced around, as if looking for someone. "You'd be surprised to learn that not everything about the Dark Lord is as black and white, concrete as you think it is. I will tell you that Blaise doesn't have the Dark Mark. But there's such a grey area that it's hard to discern where the lies end and the truth begins, Hermione. You should know by now that good and evil are merely a front for the essence of power."

His grey eyes were glowing silver as they penetrated her very soul, sending a shiver down her spine. His use of her given name was not lost on her.

She nodded, swallowing hard.

"Thank you," she stated quietly, unsure why.

"I said nothing," he replied even quieter, as they both fell into an uncomfortable silence and finished their rounds.

"Now," he stated loudly as they made their way back to Dumbledore's office. "You sure you don't want to come to this party? It's not going to be only Slytherins."

She blinked, thrown off. Why would he be inviting her?

"You don't want the Head Girl at one of your parties, Malfoy, believe me," she replied, fighting a sigh of resignation. Blaise would be there.

She wasn't so sure she wanted to see him today. Not after all that had happened.

"If you'd just see yourself as Head Girl at a party, then I suppose not," he replied, tone leaking with bitterness. "Well, cheers." He took off down a hallway to his left, and Hermione, feeling worse than she had in a long time, went in the opposite direction to Gryffindor Tower.

On the stairs she passed Lavender and Parvati, giggling madly about something.

"Hermione!" Lavender exclaimed. "You interested in coming to a party with us?"

"Yeah, Malfoy's throwing a birthday party for Blaise Zabini," Parvati interjected.

Hermione's stomach lurched. It was Blaise's birthday? She wondered why Malfoy hadn't told her. But he had tried to convince her to go, regardless.

"That's alright, girls," she smiled wryly. "I don't do parties. Send Zabini my regards, will you?"

She continued on, feeling painfully indifferent. She knew they wouldn't mention her to Blaise, and she knew she couldn't show up after she'd told Draco she wouldn't be going. He'd only find some way to ridicule her about it.

Though it was hardly past eleven on a Friday night, Hermione was inclined to do nothing more than sleep once she got to her room, not even wanting to imagine what might be going on in a different part of the school.

-

For the next week, Hermione was forced to suffer all the raving about the party, and how it had been the best one of the year. The only up side was that Blaise wouldn't have even noticed she wasn't there.

She was still bothered over Malfoy's comments that night, and her mind was continually at unease about anything to do with Blaise. She had even considered canceling on the next lesson, but knew it wasn't his fault that she was so wary, and he still needed help to get his Transfiguration NEWT.

However, that thought did nothing to quell her nerves as she knocked on the door to Blaise and Draco's private commons that night. The door swung open and the beautiful Italian stood before her, breaking into a crooked smile.

"Welcome," he greeted and she followed him into the room, hugging her books tightly to herself.

"Good evening," she replied formally, setting up her books.

"Hate to say, Malfoy won't be joining us tonight," Blaise said apologetically, frowning. "He's got a date."

"Oh," Hermione replied, dismantled. "That's alright I suppose. He's entitled."

"He said to go on without him," Blaise continued, taking a seat. Hermione looked over at him, suddenly feeling like she wanted to run more than anything. It was all to do with last Friday, the discussion she'd had with the blond about Death Eaters.

"What is it?" the Slytherin asked, looking confused. Embarrassed, Hermione realized she was still staring.

"Happy birthday," she blurted before she could stop herself. She had intended to say that maybe they could do the session the next day. "I'm a bit late, I'm afraid."

"Oh, thanks," he said, grinning. "Malfoy said you chose not to come to the party?"

"Did he?" she asked, dazed. "I wasn't aware my absence would be noted. I had heaps of work to do." She hoped he wouldn't catch her lie.

"Truthfully, I'd been hoping you would've come," he admitted, chewing the end of his quill.

"Were you really?" she asked, astounded. "Why?"

"I'd been hoping for more Gryffindors to show up. The majority of people from other houses I didn't even know. I suppose I don't have many friends outside of Slytherin." He was watching her closely.

He'd only wanted her to show because she wasn't a Slytherin. That was it.

"That's reasonable enough," she said, intending to move on to a different topic. "Shall we start?"

"Oh!" he commented, looking ashamed. "Of course, sorry."

Hermione began the lesson, and was beyond relieved to find that, once the two reached familiar territory, they were able to speak easily again.

She was having a wonderful time with the charismatic Italian, his quirky jokes, his deep accent. Everything else that gave him such a striking character, and she realized too late that she was already half an hour late to begin patrols, and it was evident that Malfoy had no intentions to end his date early and assist her. It would be a long night having to patrol on her own.

"I should really go, and get my rounds done," she said regretfully, and Blaise looked at his watch in shock.

"By yourself?" he asked, looking concerned.

"I'll be fine," she assured, packing her bag.

"Are you sure? I could help if you'd like. It's the least I could do for your help, and especially after keeping you so late," he admitted, grinning.

"Only if you want to," she said uneasily. He nodded. "Then I'd like that a lot."

"Great," he removed his tie, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt to get comfortable. Hermione fought back an urge to feel the green and silver silk of his tie, and a bigger urge to feel him. He rolled up his sleeves, and Hermione felt a surge of something unexpected spread through her veins at seeing his tanned, unmarked forearms. It made her restless.

She led him through the halls, suddenly in no hurry to get through her rounds quickly. Blaise was the perfect companion, and Hermione found herself wishing he had been given Head Boy rather than Draco. Blaise seemed to enjoy looking for students out past curfew, awarding several warnings and detentions.

"It's amazing how much power this job gives students," Blaise commented and Hermione froze, her mind replaying what Malfoy had said about power hiding behind good and evil just the week before. She looked over at the Italian, but he showed nothing unnatural in his expression.

"That's true," she replied, choosing to ignore it for the time being.

It was close to midnight when the two finally completed the entire school and Hermione's excitement vanished when he was about to leave.

"Thanks a lot for the help," she muttered.

"Not at all, I had fun," he replied, looking down at his wristwatch. "It's pretty late. What's your first class tomorrow?"

"History of magic," she replied, watching him curiously. "Same as you."

"No kidding, that's your first?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "Slytherins have got Herbology before that every Friday."

"I see," Hermione grinned. So while you're fighting deadly plants I'll be sleeping in."

"I suppose," Blaise said, shooting her a glare. She laughed.

"Now, that's precisely the reason you shouldn't be in Slytherin." She said it before she could stop herself, instantly regretting her words as the smile dropped from his face and he tensed up.

"Things rarely work out how we'd like them to," he stated shortly. He looked at his watch again, uneasily this time.

"Blaise, I didn't mean to–" she said quickly, angry with herself for insinuating anything about his house, even anything so simple as timetable scheduling. It clearly wasn't her place to suggest he shouldn't be a Slytherin, especially these days.

"Don't worry about it," he said distantly. "I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Okay, bye," she said nervously, biting her lip. He nodded, pensive, before turning and walking away, leaving Hermione alone with her presently mutinous thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! Chapter three, and look how fast it was! In fact, I'm only posting this now because I'm in the middle of a hellweek at school and to be honest, don't know the next time I'll be able to find five minutes to power up my computer and update. (I recently reside in the library.) After the past few days, it's a wonder I'm even still awake at 1 am.

Regardless, I love you all so much I just had to get the next installment out. I hope you'll review, it'll give me some reason to survive the next week and a half. And to be honest, it's all I ask. Just a few words of encouragement/response to this little brainchild of mine. It really does mean so much to open my inbox and see some reviews :) They keep me sane... mildly.

Please enjoy! (and review of course.)

_

* * *

I guess I should have known better than to trust you alone with him, Granger._

Hermione jumped as the letter crashed into the back of her head. Carefully unfolding it, she looked around the classroom to see Malfoy watching her intently. Noticing Harry and Ron frantically attempting to finish their essays due the next class, Hermione lifted her quill and scribbled a response.

_I've no idea what you're talking about, Malfoy._

He shot her a smirk as he read her note, shaking his head. Hermione risked a glance at Blaise next to him, fast asleep, his head collapsed on crossed arms.

_I'm talking about you blew it, Granger. I don't know what you said or did to screw it up, but you lost any chance you may have had. You've lost his trust._

Hermione paled this time, remembering Blaise's reaction to her joke about his house the previous night. She'd had no idea he would take it so seriously. It did seem like quite an over-reaction to her, but maybe she'd touched a nerve.

_Malfoy I never intended to say that to him or offend him in any way. Tell me what he said about it._

When Draco received the worn parchment for the last time, he read it, eyebrows raised. Then his eyes narrowed and he stared at her coolly. Lighting the sheet on fire with his wand, he pretended to pay attention to Binns, taking notes, knowing it would drive Hermione insane.

By the end of class Hermione was infuriated and sent Harry and Ron to finish their essays before their next class so she could track down the blond Slytherin. She caught up to him outside of the Great Hall, where he and Blaise were talking quietly.

"Malfoy," she shouted, keeping her focus away from Blaise for the time being. Draco turned to see her, looking shocked she was speaking to him.

"I'll catch up," Draco murmured to his companion, who nodded, gave Hermione a quick glance and continued on alone.

"_Please_, tell me what he said to you." Her eyebrows furrowed as he just smirked, intending to keep walking. "Trust me, I don't want to be seen with you right now any more than you want to be seen with me, so let's make this quick, which entails you telling me what Blaise said."

"I swear Granger, are you ever amusing." His cold eyes danced with mirth. "Blaise said nothing, I just wanted to freak you out. Now, however, I am quite curious to hear what you _did _do."

She stopped, mouth hanging open.

"This was all an act?" She asked in disbelief.

"Correct," he replied, "and I have to say, you fell for it magnificently."

"Pure evil, Malfoy," she hissed, glaring at him before she started walking off.

"You actually have no idea how much that means to me Granger, thank you," he embellished seriously and those around him turned to stare. Noticing a group of third years watching the exchange, he sneered at them. "What the bloody hell are you looking at?" The third years immediately scattered and Draco shrugged, leaving to make it to his lesson in time.

-

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, one Hermione was quite thankful for. Every single one of their professors was piling homework over their heads and it was becoming difficult to find a spare minute. To have an entire day to get away for themselves was very relaxing.

Hermione and a large group of Gryffindors were in the Three Broomsticks, enjoying warm glasses of Butterbeer. She was happily watching out the window, seeing the excited younger students running about.

"Hermione," Harry's voice interrupted her musing. "We noticed you were away again this Thursday evening. It's becoming a bit of a habit for you, is something wrong?"

She met his eyes, swallowing nervously.

"Thursdays? I never realized, it must be just a coincidence," she replied, laughing loudly through her nerves. Ron shot her a glance. "You know how much time I spend in the library."

"You know you could tell us if something important was happening, right Hermione?" Ron told her, concern evident in his eyes.

"Of course, Ron," she said, smiling. Not likely they would accept her tutoring two Slytherins under any circumstances.

"I think she's got a boyfriend," Ginny said loudly, causing several others to look up from their conversations and fix Hermione with curious glances.

"You understand you would all be the first to know if _that_ was the case," Hermione said, shrugging it off as if the idea was preposterous. "Not that I'd even have time for a boyfriend right now." The rest of the seventh years laughed appreciatively.

Finishing off her drink, Hermione glanced over at Harry and Ron, who were both finished as well.

"Let's go shopping," she suggested and the three said goodbye to the rest of the group, walking into the warm weather of Hogsmeade.

As they were browsing the aisles of a particular store Hermione heard the voice of the one person she hadn't wanted to see in Hogsmeade.

"You can just put it on my store credit, under 'Malfoy'," he was saying, and Hermione snickered to herself.

"I'm sorry sir, I can't do that," she lifted her head at the voice of the cashier, looking over to locate the Slytherin. He had started to confront the lady who looked rather unaffected.

"Oh, you know what?" Hermione asked, taking a deep breath. "I forgot I wanted to browse the charms section. I hear they have a lovely new display on advanced around-the-home charms."

Seeing the nervous exchange between the two boys, Hermione smiled to herself.

"You two can go along without me, I'll find you later back at school." They both smiled gratefully before taking off quickly out of the store. Steeling herself for what she was about to do, Hermione slowly walked towards the front counter where a line was starting to grow.

"Sir, I do realize you have been a customer of this store for years, but I am under strict orders not to allow you any purchases on your credit," the lady was saying to an astonished Malfoy.

"Orders from who?" he demanded and the lady scrolled through a magical database.

"A Mr. Lucius Malfoy," she replied. "It says here you've been cut off indefinitely from spending money in all of Hogsmeade."

Draco looked completely enraged and the customers behind him were starting to complain. With one furious glare the other patrons settled quickly.

"Draco!" Hermione said, walking right up to the blond. "There you are, I've been looking for you."

"I've been here," he replied unsurely, thrown entirely off guard.

"You're so forgetful, you silly old thing," she continued, grinning madly. "You left your money with me when you departed from school earlier." She reached into her bag and drew out a small sack of money.

"Did I really?" he asked, staring directly into her eyes, trying to understand what she was doing.

"Yes, you did," she said forcefully, shoving the bag of coins onto the counter at the cashier. Looking confused, the lady counted out the money she was owed and thanked him for his business, hurrying to move on to the next customer.

Still stunned, Draco picked up the bag of money and handed it back to Hermione as soon as they left the shop.

"Why the hell would you do that?" he hissed.

"I would've done it for any of my friends," she replied, shrugging.

"Granger, we aren't friends." His grey eyes penetrated her own once more.

"Obviously," she shook it off. "But it looked as if you needed someone."

"I would have handled myself just fine," he persisted, frowning.

"Oh yes, I saw," she laughed. "You were embarrassing yourself in front of a crowd. Not to mention that young cashier."

He opened his mouth to say something back, but changed his mind and went silent again.

"So why has dear Lucius cut you off from spending?" she asked, realizing it wasn't her business and not entirely caring. He shook his head.

"No clue, it's news to me, in case you hadn't guessed. He's paranoid I'll bankrupt him I suppose." Hermione snorted.

"You spend _that_ much, do you?" She laughed at the idea of Draco Malfoy spending millions of his father's galleons.

"Of course not," he scoffed. "But uh, I'll pay you back when we get to school. I hadn't brought money because I wasn't expecting this."

"I had hoped so," she said thoughtfully. "I'm not too sure who spends ten galleons on a new quill."

"I'll have you know it's of the highest quality," he defended, missing the glint of humour in Hermione's eyes.

"What is?" came another voice and Hermione looked over to see Blaise join them. "Not too often you see Malfoy and Granger standing in the middle of a street having a conversation."

As if suddenly aware of their situation, both glanced nervously around, relieved that no one was paying attention to them.

"How was the shopping, Blaise?" Draco asked, smirking about something.

"Shopping was just fine," Blaise replied breezily, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Anyone thirsty?"

"I had a Butterbeer already, thanks," Hermione replied timidly, unsure if she should still be a part of their company.

"A Butterbeer," Malfoy repeated, laughing.

"Come on Granger, join us for a drink," the dark-haired Slytherin continued. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyway."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," she agreed, smiling. She started walking towards the Three Broomsticks but Blaise grabbed her arm, turning her in the opposite direction.

"This way," he murmured. Hermione's insides felt warm at the unexpected contact and she peacefully trailed after the taller men. They walked into a building Hermione had never seen before, and she recognized no one inside. It seemed to be a bar but not a grungy one like she might have expected. In fact, it was quite nice. There was a dance floor, but being the middle of the afternoon, it was empty.

Hermione sat down at a table with Malfoy while Blaise walked over to the bar, returning shortly with three glasses of _something_ which he set down on the table, taking a seat next to Hermione.

The two Slytherins started drinking from their glasses but Hermione stared at hers uneasily. She saw Malfoy watching her closely from across the table.

"Try it," he said softly, taking another sip of his own dark liquid. Not wanting to appear rude since Blaise had bought it for her, Hermione lifted the glass and took a small sip.

She instantly regretted it. It felt as if someone had wound up and punched her directly in the face. She set the drink down, blinking wildly. Holding her face, Hermione turned to see the amused expression of Blaise.

"What the _hell_ is in that?" she asked, ignoring Malfoy's laughter.

"You don't want to know, trust me," the Italian replied, grinning. "If you don't want it I won't be insulted, but it does get better after the first taste."

Gathering all of her Gryffindor bravery, Hermione stared at the drink. She exhaled deeply before picking it up and taking a bigger sip this time. Blaise had been right; it tasted enjoyable after the initial shock. And suddenly she felt a very strong urge to drink more of it. Midway through a deep gulp, Blaise carefully took the glass out of her hand and set it down away from her, leaning in close enough for her to feel his breath in her ear, hot and tempting.

"Be careful, one glass of this stuff will waste you if you let it," he warned and Hermione left the drink alone for the next while. She noticed Draco and Blaise were already on their second and third drinks respectively and she watched them warily, assuming they were just used to it.

"So," Blaise began, looking between the other two. "Why exactly were you two having a chat in the street?"

"I saved his arse in the bookstore," Hermione replied before she could stop herself, smiling lightly.

"You did not," the blond denied, polishing off his second glass.

"Seriously?" the Italian asked, grinning. "How?"

"Lucius cut him off," she informed Blaise, not feeling intimidated by the fact that Malfoy was fuming at her. Blaise stared at her for a moment, shocked, before breaking into loud, obnoxious laughter. The couple at the next table shot them dirty looks, but the Slytherins ignored them completely.

"That is _golden_," he said emphatically after he'd caught his breath. Readjusting himself in his seat, Blaise didn't seem to notice as he tossed his arm across the back of the bench, resting it dangerously close to Hermione's shoulders. Draco noticed however, lifting his eyes to see Hermione's reaction, though his expression remained neutral.

"What did you say you wanted to talk about before we came here?" Hermione asked suddenly, remembering what he'd said before.

"I wanted to talk?" he asked, confused. "I'm gonna need another one of these." Draco rolled his eyes, grabbed Blaise's empty glass and walked it over to the bar for a third refill. "I can't remember," Blaise admitted, rubbing his forehead as if to stimulate his memory.

Feeling she was pacing herself decently enough, Hermione drank some more of her own concoction, nearly choking on the liquid as she felt Blaise's arm slide further down the bench onto her shoulders. He stared at his hand on her far side as if he'd never seen such a thing. Then, apparently losing interest, he curved his long fingers in, gripping her arm, and looked around the bar. Hermione forced herself to continue breathing.

When Draco returned, Blaise picked up the full glass and downed half of it in a single gulp.

"God Blaise, you're such an embarrassing drunk," Draco commented, drinking his own third glass, though it seemed to have no effect on the blond.

"Hey, it is not my fault you turn into a complete downer when you're drinking," Blaise replied matter-of-factly, offended. Hermione, feeling the intoxication of her own drink already, nearly gone, laughed out loud at his comment.

"I mean, look at him," Blaise continued. "He's just sitting there, am I right?"

"Seriously Malfoy, get some life in you," Hermione said, grinning wildly. She swirled the last of her drink in the glass, before finishing it quickly.

"Get the lady another drink," Blaise requested loudly and Draco shot him a glare.

"Pull yourself together," Draco stated, meeting Blaise's eyes levelly. "If she has another drink she'll be gone."

"I will not," she replied, frowning.

"Granger I know the shit better than you do, alright?" Malfoy said, turning to meet her gaze. "Look at Blaise, he's already losing it. Frankly Zabini, I'm ashamed of you. You're lacking focus and allowing the drink to get to you."

Blaise observed his friend through unimpressed eyes.

"You, Malfoy, are an arse." He quickly scanned the rest of the room again, as if looking for something. Hemione was shocked more at the fact that Draco looked taken aback than the fact that Blaise had said it. "Honestly, it's a Saturday and I haven't had a good time in a while. And if you want to be miserable and see how many you can drink before you get smashed, then go ahead."

"Blaise, I–" Draco tried to say something but Blaise cut him off.

"In case you haven't noticed, we have company, Malfoy," he gestured wildly at Hermione, who felt nothing short of petrified at being involved in their argument. "If Granger wants another drink, I'll damn well buy her another drink." Draco sighed, pushing his drink away from him.

"Granger, do you want another drink?" he asked her honestly, leaning forward. She was feeling much clearer than she had before.

"It isn't that I don't _want_ another drink," she began, glancing at Blaise next to her, who gave a noncommittal shrug. "It's just probably not the best idea. Seriously, the three of us should not be associated in any way, let alone drinking together. Face it, I've got friends who are probably already wondering where I am, and neither them nor your Slytherin friends would understand this."

"She's right," Blaise admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Damnit Granger, why must you _always_ be right." He gave her a wry smile, removing his arm from her shoulders. Hermione shuddered at the loss of heat.

"We should take her back," Draco said, looking at his watch.

"I'll be fine," Hermione protested, feeling almost eager to leave the two heated Slytherins.

"Nonsense," Blaise replied, standing up. "Hogsmeade is full of creeps at night and it's getting late." It made her feel oddly safe.

It seemed the fresh air did Blaise a lot of good, and he was acting quite like his usual, sober self as he walked next to Hermione, Draco trailing slightly behind.

"Oh, I remembered what I meant to ask you," he suddenly said and Hermione looked up. "Since NEWTs are approaching at a mad pace, I was wondering if you had an extra hour or two a week. I understand you're very busy." He looked over at her.

"I think I could do that," Hermione replied, smiling lightly. She thought for a moment. "Do Sundays work for you?"

The Italian nodded after a short pause.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he said shortly and Hermione looked up, surprised to see Hogwarts looming over her already. She said goodbye to her strange company and nearly floated to Gryffindor Tower.

"Hermione!" Ron called as she entered the common room, and she walked over somewhat uncomfortably. "We looked for you when we were ready to go back but no one had seen you."

"I got carried away with the books as usual guys, sorry," Hermione lied. Harry chuckled.

"Herms, it is quite late. You can't get so carried away as to put yourself in danger," he reminded her and she just shook her head, flushing pink.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll be back though," she continued through the common room to the girl's staircase to drop off her bag. The room was empty except for Lavender, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed. The other girl watched Hermione very closely as she put away her things.

"So," Lavender began, a dark smile upon her features. "Want to explain to me what that was about?" Hermione froze, looking at her friend.

"What do you mean, Lavender?" she asked, confused. Lavender jumped off her bed, running over to sit on Hermione's.

"You and Blaise!" Her eyes were aglow with excitement.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied uneasily. Lavender sighed with frustration, her face betraying her true emotions.

"Hermione, I saw him take your hand and then whisper something into your ear," she squealed. Hermione paled considerably. "Are you two an item?"

"We're just friends, I suppose," Hermione denied. "Lavender, I know how much you love to spread gossip. Please don't tell anyone, especially Harry and Ron."

"I tell Parvati everything," the other girl said quickly, biting her lip.

"Yes, and then Parvati tells the rest of the school! Lav, you can't," Hermione pleaded. Her mind was working furiously. The majority of Gryffindor had strong convictions that several Slytherins were already Death Eaters, and that group included Malfoy and Zabini. Lavender was pouting and Hermione knew she couldn't trust the other girl to keep quiet.

"If you promise me you won't tell anyone, I'll do my best to get you a date with Draco Malfoy," Hermione said after a thought, keeping her voice to a whisper. She knew that, Death Eater or no, Malfoy was high on Lavender's list of priority males in Hogwarts.

"You could do that?" she asked, trying to keep back a smile.

"I spend two hours patrolling with him every night, I could give it a shot," Hermione said, hoping Lavender took the bait. Getting Malfoy to agree would be easy compared to keeping Lavender silent.

"Okay, let me know," she whispered, nearly bursting with excitement. "And Hermione?"

Hermione looked back up.

"Talk to me if anything ever does happen between you and Blaise, will you? The two of you would make such a fantastic couple." Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"You think?" she asked, feeling nervous. Lavender nodded anxiously. "Well, thanks. I'll see you later, Lav." And she left the room, leaving the other girl torn between spreading the news and waiting to hear Malfoy's answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, here it is, kids. Chapter 4- and I dare say the one many of you have been waiting for? ;)

My reviewers, I love you all! And also those of you who have favourited/alerted. Don't be afraid to stop by and say hi before you go :) Bahaha.

Also, I wrote a new one-shot instead of doing schoolwork over the weekend! It's called Prudence, Draco/Hermione, and I can't lie, I quite like it. It's a little tension-y. Check it out if you've got a bit of time :)

Reviews = Motivation; the more writing I do the quicker you'll get the next one. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Hermione woke early Sunday morning with a sudden start. She lay, eyes wide, her breath coming heavy, before sitting up. She ran a hand through her thick hair, trying to recall what she had dreamed of. Had it been a dream? She couldn't imagine what else might have woken her so quickly. The dorm was quiet; Parvati and Lavender were both still fast asleep.

The clock next to Hermione's head read 5:45 AM. She sighed, lying back down, attempting to fall back asleep.

After five minutes she found that her mind was far too restless now, and a bizarre sense of panic was running through her. She felt a steady throb in her temple, shutting her eyes tightly against the pain.

Determined to make the best of her early morning, Hermione stood up, gathered some Muggle attire and walked into the girls washroom to take a relaxing bath.

Her mind, however, was still rampant, trying to locate the source of her present unease. She eventually gave up, dressed and walked back into the dorm, to find that it had only been twenty minutes. Harry and Ron wouldn't be up until at least ten.

Midway through pulling her dried hair into a ponytail, Hermione was struck with an idea. Lavender and Parvati had ordered a hair product for Hermione at Christmas from their Wizarding catalogues designed to reduce frizz. Hermione had yet to try it out, and she figured now could be as good a time as any.

The fact that she was seeing Blaise later on was forced to the back of her mind.

After a half hour and several misguided attempts, her hair was mildly tamed, falling in curls rather than an uncontrolled bird's nest. It would've taken her hours to get it completely straight. Allowing herself further vanity, if only slight, Hermione applied the lightest amount of makeup to her eyes and cheeks.

She might as well look nice if she was going to bother at all.

Hermione drew a book from her trunk, leaning back against her headboard and began to read. Time seemed to trickle past, but it was eventually 7:30 and her stomach was starting to express its hunger.

Suddenly she set the book aside, wrote a quick note on a piece of parchment and folded it up. The sky outside of her window looked grey and gloomy so Hermione threw a hooded jumper over her shirt and grabbed her bookbag before leaving the dorm. She walked slowly to the Owlery, allowing herself this time for leisure.

She borrowed one of the school owls, giving it the letter and it flew off promptly. Hermione smiled, watching the owl fly away. She took the opportunity to give Hedwig an owl treat from the stores in the Owlery before walking down to the Great Hall.

There were very few students awake at this time of morning, only a few Ravenclaws, a pair of Hufflepuffs and surprisingly, one Slytherin.

She met the gaze of Draco Malfoy as she sat down, and his eyes narrowed at her in response. It wasn't as if she expected him to wave or anything.

She ate her breakfast in a quiet thoughtfulness, but somehow couldn't shake the ominous feeling lurking in her mind. It had diminished since she had woken up so randomly, but it was unmistakably still there.

It was nearly half past eight by the time Hermione finished her meal, and more students had started to enter in search of their own breakfast. As Neville sat down, attempting to start a conversation with Hermione, she quickly excused herself to the library. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to the boy, just that she would've rather been solitary for the time being.

Once she reached the back of the library, Hermione felt refreshed and took a seat at her usual table. She started the potions essay Snape had assigned in the last class, assuming she would need a lot of time to complete it. And once she began to focus, the dark feeling in her head vanished almost completely.

She heard a stir but ignored it, until she realized it was headed toward her area. Suddenly two stacks of galleons were placed in front of her heavily, and she looked up to see Malfoy, frowning at her.

"Your money," he said formally, but didn't walk away.

"This is too much," Hermione replied after a quick glance at the gold coins. "The quill was only ten galleons, Malfoy, this is at least double."

"Oops," he drawled lazily, making no move to reclaim the money. He instead walked away from her, taking a seat at the next table over.

"Don't you want it?" she asked, incredulous.

"It's too heavy to carry around," he enunciated, sounding highly aristocratic. "I suppose you can keep it." Hermione stared at him blankly for another moment before shaking her head, turning back to work on her paper.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed some minutes later, as if she was intruding in his personal space.

"Do I really need to explain it to you, Malfoy?" she asked, sighing heavily. "I'm writing an essay."

"_No_, why were you up so early?" He looked genuinely interested but Hermione swore it was a trick of the light.

"I couldn't sleep," she murmured, not wanting to explain her predicament to him.

"Uh huh," he muttered to himself, sounding unconvinced. "So you said to yourself, 'oh, I'm up early, obviously I should head directly to the library'."

"A little hypocritical, wouldn't you say, Malfoy? You were at breakfast before I was, and you also are now in the library," she reasoned, returning to her essay.

"I had to repay you, I knew you'd be here," he replied coldly.

"And you're still here, I've noticed," she added, deliberately intending to frustrate him.

"Get over yourself, Granger," he spat, glowering at her. "So I wanted to speak to you about something." This was not the answer she had been expecting so Hermione laid down her quill, turning to him with pursed lips, engaging him to continue. He sighed exaggeratedly. "About Blaise."

"I don't see why you're making a small crush so much of your business," she said absently.

"Granger, I know you think I'm a heartless Slytherin, and truthfully, that's what I'd like you to think. But when it comes to my friends, I do in fact care about their well-being. It became my business when I saw the two of you together." He sighed, dropping his voice.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're caught in the beginnings of a war, Granger," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "When it comes down to it, we're a bunch of bloody seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds. Whether or not we want to be involved, we're _already_ involved. How much knowledge and experience do we _seriously_ have against Death Eaters or Order members?"

"Harry's escaped Voldemort numerous times, Malfoy," Hermione defied him, her voice low as well. At the name Voldemort Malfoy's eyes had narrowed.

"No, Granger, Potter's pulled some spectacular escape strategies out of his arse," he countered. "It's going to take a lot more than some headstrong kid to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Malfoy, I _know_ all this, and quite frankly, it has nothing to do with Blaise Zabini."

"God Granger, don't you get it? At this point in time it has everything to do with _everyone_. As much as we try to focus on school and NEWTs and our bloody futures, the truth of the matter is that _this_ is our future, and there's going to be a hell of a lot of us who never make it through this war. Soon enough, choice will have nothing to do with it. And Blaise's blood will steer him towards our side more readily than yours." Hermione was silent, watching him distractedly, her mind heavy into overdrive.

"Granger," he whispered, drawing her attention back to him. "It's obvious you meant no harm at first. He's a good looking guy, I understand that. Plenty of girls notice him. And you wanted to help him get his Transfiguration, that's noble of you. Bloody Gryffindors." He shook his head.

"But things in Slytherin are different than up in that tower of yours. We aren't the good-hearted people you suspect we all are, _deep down_. We're Slytherins. And Blaise is a Slytherin for a reason, it wasn't a mistake. He's in the house of Slytherin because he showed the qualities of Salazar himself, and you need to realize that. Truthfully, Blaise could very likely be the most manipulative person I've ever met, even if his family doesn't emphasize the Dark Arts the way mine does."

"Malfoy, just stop it," she finally blurted, looking at him from the spot on her parchment she'd been watching blankly. "I get it, you want me to move on. I'm sorry to break it to you, all of what you've just said isn't exactly news to me. I _do_ happen to have a knowledge of current events. But I must say, you aren't speaking to the only party involved. He's the one who asked me to work with him today."

Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously. Clearly he hadn't been aware of this fact.

"I sent him an owl at breakfast," Hermione continued, and Malfoy appeared to lose his previous train of thought. He snorted rather ungracefully.

"Blaise wasn't at breakfast, he's probably still completely out of it. A tip, Granger, never try waking him up if he's bound to be hung over." His eyes danced with dark humour.

"What do you mean, he's hung over?" Hermione asked, interested.

"I mean when you saw him yesterday he was practically as sober as McGonagall. Should've seen him last night," Malfoy smirked.

"You went back to Hogsmeade after it was closed to students? Malfoy, you're Head Boy," she berated and he shrugged.

"Don't tell me even you wouldn't enjoy a night out without consequences Granger," he murmured quietly, striking a nerve and Hermione was silent.

"Anyway, that isn't the point," he went on, observing his notes. "The point is, he's improving in class, and there really isn't much point in keeping up this dangerous charade. If the two of you are too blind to see the truth, then I've got to be the one to show it to you." He sighed, as if he were exhausted.

"Is he really? I wasn't aware," she commented, taking this news in.

"Granger, you're missing the point entirely," he cried, exasperated. His voice was rising in volume. "Get it through your thick Muggle skull. God, I thought you were smart. I assumed you'd understand the importance of keeping your distance and you're completely oblivious, just because you're bloody _obsessed_ with my best friend–" he was cut off by a loud clatter from the bookshelves.

The pair glanced up, thrown, unwilling to be seen together, to find the object of their discussion standing some metres away. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot and he had a mug of coffee clenched tightly in one hand, his bookbag over the other shoulder.

His dark eyes were wide in disbelief, his mouth slightly open. Malfoy swallowed deeply, trying to interest himself in his books once more.

Hermione however, was horror-struck but could not bring herself to look away. He had obviously overheard, especially if he had been standing there since the blond's last tirade. Blaise met her eyes, his brow furrowed anxiously.

He muttered something unintelligible from deep in his throat. Hermione suspected it was Italian. He downed the last of his coffee, running his free hand through his already tousled hair before turning and walking away from them.

Hermione, still wide-eyed with fright, turned to see Malfoy looking appropriately stunned, his jaw slightly open, before he carefully schooled his expression, looking as if nothing at all had happened.

Hermione wanted to scream at him, her heart was beating erratically out of her chest, her mind was in overhaul, and he was calmly working out an arithmancy problem.

"Malfoy, you lousy bastard," she hissed and he glanced up at her, appearing mildly annoyed.

"Fine, I'll talk to him," he said after a long pause before gathering his things and leaving.

Finding she could no longer concentrate, Hermione left the library as well, her brain reeling with anger, frustration and fear. Now that Blaise knew her real intentions he'd probably never imagine asking for her help again, let alone speak to her or look at her. Malfoy was right, as much as it pained her to admit; her and Blaise were far too different to ever be considered in the same thought.

She knew the idea would do nothing to convince her heart.

-

After that Sunday Hermione found herself feeling significantly lost. She could not dream of being able to focus and her favourite hobby of late– observing– was certainly out of the question.

Summer was fast approaching and the castle had been encompassed by the warm sun day and night, leaving the inhabitants of Hogwarts in a perpetual state of dizziness and cabin fever. Hermione spent more time than ever before alone on the shores of the lake, her mind wild with thoughts.

Providing a sharp contrast to the cheerful weather was the _Daily Prophet_, its front page proffering dark stories of tragic attacks and misadventures almost every morning. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before something serious happened to someone she, Ron or Harry knew closely.

She had not spoken to Draco or Blaise since the library, and even if she had wanted to, she didn't suppose she could work up the nerve. They both seemed entirely unperturbed about the recurring events that screamed of Dark Magic, and to Hermione's own disappointment, she didn't feel very surprised at this fact.

On Wednesday of that week the Ministry of Magic had shown up unexpectedly, apparently against the wishes of McGonagall and examined the students, forcing them all to undergo searches for any form of Dark support.

Hermione could still see it.

Draco Malfoy had strode right to the front of the line, his grey eyes burning with ill-suppressed hatred. He stood in front of the ministry officials who were eyeing him with blatant dislike as well. With his head held high, he delicately rolled back his crisp white sleeves. Defiantly meeting the eyes of the entire school, he revealed his pale forearms, mercifully free of the Dark Mark.

When the inspecting official was appropriately flabbergasted, Draco rolled his sleeves back down, sent him one last glare of loathing and walked elegantly from the hall.

Hermione could have sworn he met her eyes as he walked past.

Harry and Ron had been furious. As far as they were concerned, Malfoy was running some sort of under-aged Death Eater cult within Hogwarts. The Ministry had come back empty handed, and even Hermione suspected something had been going on. She had been almost certain at least Crabbe and Goyle had the Mark already.

She shuddered to think of the dark magic that could fool even the Ministry of Magic.

That Thursday night Hermione had assumed Blaise would no longer be needing her assistance and she remained in the Gryffindor common room, trying to convince Ron that she wasn't being any quieter than usual.

They had at least accepted that she never had any sort of hidden Thursday night agenda.

All week when Hermione had classes with either Malfoy or Blaise she had been ignored entirely. Friday had been no different, and by the time she was free of classes, she was thoroughly tired of it. Opting not to eat dinner she went outside, settling herself cross-legged by the lake to watch the sunset.

It was starting to get dark and the stifling hot air gave way to cool winds. Despite herself Hermione remained outside, leaning back against a nearby tree, allowing her eyes to slide shut. Just as she felt herself drifting to sleep Hermione was jolted back awake by another presence.

"Mind if I join you?" She looked up, her breath catching in her throat as she saw her company. He was looming over her, still in his shirt and tie, dark curls falling in his eyes.

"Of course not," she replied, confused. She watched him take a seat next to her on the grass, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"I've been meaning to talk to you all week," he stated, pursing his lips when Hermione scoffed. "I mean it; do you know how hard it is to find you away from Potter and Weasley?" She didn't answer, eliciting a smirk from Blaise.

"You found me," she murmured, picking at the grass in an attempt to avoid his gaze.

"I had to ask you personally," he took a deep breath, glancing over at her, "if Malfoy was telling the truth. About everything."

"I don't suppose there's much reason to lie," she said breezily, her face flushing in betrayal of her tone. "If 'everything' means what I'd presume it to be, then yes."

He stared at her, his mouth opened to speak before he shut it once more. He stood and took a few steps away from her toward the lake. Hermione felt her already weak stomach sink. Her mind was swimming in disappointment and shame.

Blaise had his back to her, his hands in his pockets. It took Hermione a moment to realize he was watching the sun go down over the lake.

"Timeless, isn't it?" he murmured quietly, though Hermione heard him.

"Yes," she replied after a pause.

"Granger," his voice seemed far away. What he said next threw her off entirely. "Would you say I can trust you?"

"I hope so," she said quietly, blinking. He appraised her for a moment before nodding. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet before shoving his hands in his pockets once more.

"Come for a walk with me," he murmured, walking towards the Quidditch pitch. After a moment Hermione followed, catching up to him. His eyes had a very distant look about them. He was silent for a long while before he sighed.

"Granger," he began carefully, "there are things in my life that complicate everything far beyond necessity. As I'm sure the same goes for you. And as much as we may try to avoid it, it all comes down to this war."

Hermione took a deep breath. So he was trying to let her down easy. Malfoy had been right; Blaise was much more prone to join the dark side than her own.

"Now, Malfoy's been trying to talk me out of speaking to you all week." He stopped walking, looking over at her.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked darkly, avoiding his eyes.

"I asked myself that same thing," he continued walking. It was getting windier out, his dark hair was blowing in his eyes. "All week I've been trying to convince myself that it's a bad idea. Obviously I failed since I'm here now." The corners of his lips tilted into a smirk.

"It would appear so," Hermione joked, trying to ease her nerves.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Every time I thought about it, I found infinite reasons to stay away from you. You're a Gryffindor, you're in the Order, you're best friends with Harry sodding Potter. But then when you didn't show up on Thursday I couldn't stop myself from being disappointed about it."

"Really?" she asked, shocked. "I assumed you wouldn't need my help anymore, after what Malfoy said." She drifted off and he shook his head.

"Can I tell you something? You have to promise you won't be upset," he said, leaning close to her ear. She fought back a shiver, meeting his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

"I suppose so, yes," she said quietly.

"I have my suspicions that Draco greatly exaggerated my transfiguration inadequacies when he first spoke to you." Hermione looked nervously at Blaise, wondering what he meant. "A lot of the stuff you taught me I already knew, and I've actually received O's on the last two assignments."

Her mouth fell open in shock.

"You mean you allowed me to go on and make a fool of myself for no reason?" Her voice was oddly high pitched.

"It wasn't for no reason," he continued in a low voice. "I wouldn't have been able to spend time with you otherwise."

"Oh." Hermione froze, lost for words. Her insides were heating up and she felt uncomfortable next to him. Suddenly what he'd just said hit her and she couldn't stop a smile from rising to her features. "So you _wanted_ to see me." He watched her for a moment before smirking.

"I wanted to do more than see you," he murmured, his eyes smoky as they met hers. Once more she found herself unable to speak in retaliation for a moment, and she sat down in the middle of the pitch, looking up at the sky.

"And so you ignored me all week, leaving me to believe you absolutely loathed me and couldn't stand the thought of me." Her smile betrayed her words.

"Hey, I told you I had a lot to think about," he reminded her. "It's not every day you find yourself interested in Hermione Granger." He sat next to her, laying back on the grass.

"That's fair enough, I suppose," she mused. "But what did you determine during your period of contemplation?" She laid down, finding herself compelled to watch the stars. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned to look back at him.

"I can't lie, I haven't been able to answer that myself yet," he commented, looking away. "If there were no other factors it would be simple. But there's a limit where personal happiness meets reason." Hermione stayed silent, hating to admit she agreed. There was no likely way they could be openly together.

"If a mere friendship was an acceptable alternative, I'm sure we'd both still want more," he went on, his voice dropping.

"Blaise," Hermione broke the silence. "School is nearly over. No one needs to know, do they? Everyone's so distracted with school work they'd hardly notice anything."

"You think?" he asked, glancing over.

"It could work, couldn't it? I mean, I'd hate to give something up because it _might_ fail or possibly not work out. And then, after Hogwarts... who knows?"

"I wish we didn't have to worry about this," he said after a moment. "It's nearly impossible to tell where school rivalries become serious business these days."

"I agree," she nodded, giving him a sad smile.

"You know I'm not a Death Eater right?" he asked, suddenly sounding anxious. She nodded, laughing softly.

"Apparently no one in the entire school is," she commented, remembering the past Wednesday. Blaise caught on, smirking.

"Right, that." He said nothing more and Hermione didn't particularly feel like pushing him on it. Not when he was so close to her and so open with her. He noticed her staring once more at the stars and leaned closer, pointing at one particular constellation.

"That's Draco," he said, connecting the stars. Hermione laughed. "He used to believe the constellation was named after him."

"You're kidding," she replied, unable to quit laughing.

"No," Blaise said, grinning wickedly. Hermione was thrown off by how attractive he really was and the fact that he was close enough to breathe in her ear. "And he used to always–" he cut himself off, the smile dropping in an instant. "He was just a lot different when he was younger is all."

Hermione suddenly felt bad for him. It would be difficult to have a best friend like Draco Malfoy; she couldn't imagine how strict his life probably was. She realized she could see the impact of war blatantly on the strong-willed blond.

"Do you suppose you'll tell Malfoy?" she asked, intending to change the subject.

"He'll get it out of me," Blaise admitted. "It would be best to just tell him. What about Potter and Weasley?"

"They wouldn't notice anything different," she said, finding it painfully true. Although they might suspect something, they'd never catch on. "That reminds me, Lavender Brown saw you and I at Hogsmeade last week and to keep her quiet I said I'd get Draco to go out with her." She looked at him hopefully.

"You didn't," Blaise said, looking at her quickly.

"Afraid so," she replied, worried that she'd done something horribly wrong.

"That's brilliant," he continued, laughing. "Is she the blonde one in our year?" At Hermione's nod of confirmation he grinned. "He'll be more than fine with that." She let out a sigh of relief.

Blaise lifted his wrist to read his watch, his expression unreadable. Hermione tilted her head to look but he set his arm back down before she could see the time.

"Is it late?" she asked, trying to calculate how long she'd been outside.

"Depends on what you think of as late," he said cryptically, obviously not about to tell her the time. "Are you tired?"

There was something taunting in his tone that made her shake her head defiantly.

"Good," he said softly. "First one to go inside or fall asleep owes the other an essay."

"That isn't a fair challenge," Hermione retorted.

"Afraid you'll lose?" he teased, looking perfectly awake. Hermione fought back a yawn.

"Of course I won't _lose_, Blaise. There's such a thing as curfew, and I have to do patrols." She rolled her eyes at him.

"You've already missed curfew, and forget patrols for once." His easy grin made her settle down once more, now determined to stay awake later than him. She narrowed her eyes.

"Two essays, and the loser has to drop a dungbomb in Snape's classroom."

"Deal," he grinned, shaking her hand. "Granger, I sincerely hope you don't get detention through the rest of seventh when he finds out it was you."

"Likely, Zabini," she hissed, pushing him. He glared mockingly and Hermione quickly stood and ran away from him, fearing retribution. He sat up, watching her with humour. Shaking his head at her display of immaturity, he stood and watched her closely for a minute.

Trying to distance herself from him, Hermione had run to the far end of the Quidditch pitch, her face flushed and breathing irregular.

She hadn't been quite prepared for him to be such an athlete, so when he took off after her Hermione was surprised. She ducked under the bleachers, running towards the other end once more, aware that he was quickly catching up to her.

Unwilling to surrender however, she kept running away from him, laughing loudly. As soon as she was back into the open field his longer legs proved to be successful. He grabbed her hand, spinning her around to meet his eyes.

"You'll have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me," his voice was low and husky, he grinned lopsidedly at her, wrapping the other arm around her back.

Hermione barely had a chance to register that his eyes were sparkling in the moonlight before his lips met hers and her mind exploded with the sensation.

His lips were warm and soft, pressed firmly to hers. Her eyes fell shut and she kissed back, losing herself in him. His tongue probed her lips, they quickly parted and Hermione found her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her hands buried deep in his thick hair.

She was so overwhelmed by his spontaneous action that every touch, every stroke of his tongue on hers sent her reeling with ecstatic fulfillment, and she could do nothing more than fall to the magic he was working on her. She was suspended somewhere between disbelief and cataclysmic euphoria, and so when he pulled away, his eyes still tightly shut Hermione couldn't help but kiss him again.

After she'd released him, biting her lower lip out of nerves, he rested his forehead against hers. He uttered something in Italian and Hermione felt over-joyed to have that sort of effect on him. She ruffled his hair a final time before taking off once more, leaving him open-mouthed and cursing her.

-

Hermione awoke the next morning to the sun high in the sky. At first she stared straight ahead, wondering what she was doing outside. She looked over and nearly jumped in shock.

Blaise was sprawled out on his stomach next to her, one arm tossed over her, his face barely two inches from hers. Hermione smiled, feeling a strong urge to laugh. He had a severe case of bedhead and his uniform shirt was wrinkled.

She leaned in close to his ear, whispering "wake up!" His eyes blinked open, looking around insecurely. He saw her and calmed down, smiling wryly at her.

"Good morning," he murmured, his Italian accent thicker than usual through sleep.

"What time is it?" she asked, reaching for his watch hand which he pulled away.

"Time for you to start writing I'd say," he said, standing up and brushing himself off.

"What do you mean? It's Saturday, Blaise," she teased, following suit.

"I mean you fell asleep first, you owe me two essays. I suppose I'll get you to write charms and history of magic for me, and the first potions class of next week should be just fine. I'll even supply you the dungbomb," he listed off, ignoring Hermione's look of astonishment.

"I'm not _actually_ writing your essays, you realize," she stated, glaring at him coolly.

"We shook on it," he stated, his eyes full of trouble. "You were the one that upped the stakes as well. I would have been fine with you writing only one essay for me." He shrugged.

"Hey, what's saying I fell asleep first? I was the one who woke you up, how do you know I wasn't awake all night?" She hadn't intended to take the deal so seriously.

"Firstly, I saw you fall asleep, _before_ I did, and secondly, you've been drooling in your sleep," he smirked, self-satisfied and Hermione lifted a hand to cover her mouth in horror. "Don't worry about it, it's cute." He walked off, leaving Hermione speechless and defeated.

"Well, your hair is a complete mess," she threw back at him, hurrying to catch up. He stopped walking, turning to look at her. He blatantly eyed her own wild mass of curls with a raised eyebrow.

"Touche, Granger." He offered her one last heart-melting grin before he opened the door, allowing her to go ahead of him and followed shortly after, taking a different hallway down to Slytherin.

Hermione watched him go and bit her lip, wanting to jump and scream and laugh and tell the world. Instead she walked quietly to the Great Hall and took a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Lavender. The food on the plates indicated noon.

The blonde winked at her inconspicuously and Hermione flushed pink, giving the other girl an apologetic smile.

Even the suspicious glances of Draco Malfoy across the hall couldn't destroy her spirit.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, here's chapter five! The respose to this story so far has been thrilling! However, I've hit a bit of a road block for this past chapter 6, which I'm still not sure about. Any thoughts? Not to mention now I am attempting to deal with my thoughts on a Prudence sequel... With school and work it's everything to my motivation to hear that you guys want to read more, and it usually makes my day to get those pesky little notification e-mails. That being said, thanks for all the kind words, and enjoy!  


* * *

"So Hermione, do tell, where did you spend the night? It wasn't difficult to notice you never came to the dorm," Lavender asked in the girls dorm later that day, her eyes twinkling.

"You know me, Lav, up too late studying in the library again," Hermione made up quickly. "I just lost track of time and fell asleep."

The other girl's eyes narrowed, her lips curved into a rather Slytherin-esque smile.

"Hermione, not even you can fall asleep in the library and sleep until noon, and then enter the hall glowing with excitement. No book can make a girl that happy. You were with Blaise, weren't you?" She bit her lip, looking ready to squeal with excitement. Hermione sighed.

"How did you know it was Blaise?" she asked, giving up her quest to keep everyone in the dark. And anyway, it would be nice having another girl to talk to about Blaise. Ginny was far too loyal to Harry and Ron to discuss Slytherins with.

"Hermione, this is what _I'm _good at. So you shagged him or what?"

"Lav, of course not!" She blushed pink at the thought. "We merely spent the night outside talking and got carried away and fell asleep."

"That's adorable, Hermione," Lavender encouraged her. "Did you at least snog him?" Hermione couldn't hold back a smile.

"Maybe a little," she admitted. The blonde girl looked downright victorious, smiling away madly.

"And?"

"And what, Lav?"

"How was it! Blaise _is_ pretty sexy," Lavender mused. Hermione felt a twinge of something in her stomach akin to jealousy but she ignored it.

"It was nice," she said, unsure how one would go about describing such an act. "Please don't tell anyone, especially the other Gryffindors." Lavender nodded, avoiding Hermione's eyes.

"I talked to Blaise about Draco for you," she continued. "He said Draco won't mind." Lavender looked shocked before she threw her arms around Hermione, hugging her tightly.

"I've heard he's _amazing_ in bed," she informed Hermione once she'd settled and removed herself from the other girl. Hermione didn't comment on the matter, instead the door swung open and Parvati walked in.

She observed the other two coldly, gathered some things from beside her bed and left the dorm again, not saying a word.

"Parvati isn't speaking to me," Lavender said quietly after the door had closed. "I told her I might be set up with Draco and she's just jealous." Hermione, again, opted to keep her opinion to herself. Lavender didn't seem too choked in any case.

There was a knock at the window and Lavender stood from her bed to answer the owl. She took the letter and tossed it a treat and the owl flew away again. The blonde skimmed the letter quickly, eyes lit up in anticipation before she handed the parchment to Hermione. It wasn't addressed.

_Hey,_

_I miss you, come see me. Bring your friend if you want, she can keep Draco occupied (and off my case). _

_Blaise_

"Let's go!" Lavender said, pulling Hermione up by the hand and taking her in the general direction of the dungeons. Hermione was quite exhilarated herself and couldn't wait to see Blaise again and so she offered Lavender the details on how to find the Slytherin common room.

She was overcome with nerves once she stood outside of Blaise and Draco's private commons and began having second thoughts. Lavender knocked loudly on the door however, and she had no time to turn back before the door opened and Malfoy stared blankly at the two of them.

"Yes?" he asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Granger the meeting isn't for another hour, I don't particularly want to see you until then."

Suddenly the door swung open further and Blaise leaned casually against it.

"Draco, we have company. Don't be rude," he chided, shooting Hermione a wink. As she passed Malfoy on her way in however, she stopped.

"What meeting?" she questioned, wracking her brain.

"The meeting McGonagall wants to have with us today. Some Heads business or other. She sent out owls at breakfast..." he had a malicious look in his eyes. "Right, you weren't _at_ breakfast so you never got it."

"Quit being an arse," Blaise murmured. Lavender giggled and Draco glared angrily at her, before he blinked in shock, as if he'd just noticed she was there. "Malfoy this is, ah..." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Lavender Brown," she finished for him, holding her hand out to the blond who was now staring closely at her. He took her hand after a pause.

"Indeed," he muttered. Blaise rolled his eyes, grabbed Hermione's hand and led her down a hallway. She looked around blankly.

"Where are we going?" Blaise shrugged.

"My room," he replied, stopping outside of a door. Hermione also stopped walking, eyeing him warily. "What, you don't trust me?" He grinned.

"I suppose," Hermione commented uneasily. Blaise's smile faltered for a moment, he said a password in Italian that Hermione didn't understand and the door opened. He waited for her to walk in before he followed, locking the door behind him. Hermione watched him, feeling oddly worried.

"Apologies," he stated as he turned back to her. "I recognized that look in Draco's eyes. He can't resist any girl who shows the slightest interest in him, regardless of house. I didn't suppose you'd want to stay and witness."

Hermione's jaw dropped, before she quickly shook her head. Somehow she still couldn't quite shake the uncomfortable feeling gnawing at her. She sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to say. He watched her in silence, his eyes slightly narrowed. She swallowed heavily, feeling the obvious tension.

"So why did you ask me here?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Malfoy's being a pain." She wasn't sure if he was answering her question or just starting a topic of his own. "Maybe I was wrong in thinking he'd be able to handle it like an adult."

There was something in his voice that suggested he was genuinely bothered. It was very faint and Hermione might have even imagined it.

"Maybe he needs time," she assured. He nodded shortly, looking unconvinced.

"That's probably what it is." He took a seat on the bed, running a hand through his hair.

"You look tired," Hermione commented. He laughed.

"I've no idea why that could be. I went to bed at an early hour and got a full night of rest," he looked so serious that Hermione just shook her head, ignoring his smirk.

"You should have a nap," she suggested, shifting next to him.

"I should," he nodded. "You should join me." She raised an eyebrow at the troublesome glint in his eye and he feigned innocence. "Something tells me you didn't sleep that much either last night."

"I can't, meeting," she reminded him. She felt oddly disappointed. She wouldn't have minded a quick cat-nap, although she doubted that was what he had in mind.

"You have plenty of time," he scoffed. He walked to the closet, proffering her a bottle of something. Hermione laughed.

"I thought you didn't drink Butterbeer," she teased as he opened another bottle and took a swig. He sat back down, raising an eyebrow at her. Hermione took a sip, her eyes widening as the liquid hit her tongue.

"I don't." He smirked as Hermione quickly set the bottle down on the nightstand.

"Blaise how did you get alcohol into the school?" She asked, disapproving.

"You know," he began, eyes twinkling. "Alcohol isn't the only substance that can intoxicate a person. Fame, wealth, power... desire." He met her eyes. Hermione shivered, watching the drink warily.

"So what exactly is in that?" He shrugged.

"Alcohol. I'm not about to poison you Hermione," Blaise laughed. "What kind of person would that make me?" He was mocking astonishment. Hermione pretended to think for a moment.

"A Slytherin," she stated, staring him down.

"You've got us all wrong," he appeared hurt. "Slytherins merely smuggle alcohol into the school. We don't poison our girlfriends."

A part of Hermione felt especially warm at the word "girlfriend." She hesitantly took another sip from her drink.

"I'll admit it isn't awful," Hermione murmured, trying to ignore the mischief in his eyes.

"I could've told you that," he replied. Blaise was watching her oddly and before Hermione could determine what he was thinking he'd leaned in to kiss her. It was tender and sensual, though with an underlying edge to it. Before Hermione could fully respond, he had pulled back, eyeing her with a calculating gaze.

"You're really quite remarkable, did you know?" he murmured, kissing her once more quickly. She flushed lightly at the unexpected compliment. Before she could find a reply he had continued talking.

"So Malfoy's throwing another party next weekend," he stated conversationally, taking a deep swig of his drink.

"So soon?" she questioned, surprised. "Didn't he just have one?"

"Malfoy doesn't stress about exams like ordinary people. He parties, and he drinks. The more stressed he gets, the more often he throws parties." Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the strange reasoning. Blaise grinned, shaking his head. "I never said I understood him. Anyhow, you up for it? Be my _escort_?"

"I don't think the Head Girl title advises me to endorse illegal late-night parties," she murmured, though half-heartedly. Something about the way he'd asked made her feel warm and giddy.

"Nothing bad is going to happen," he teased, "the professors never find out about this sort of thing anyway. Not the way Draco does it."

Hermione was about to ask what he meant, but decided she would rather not know after all. Instead, she had some more of her drink, surprised that it was actually quite delicious. Blaise watched her, eyes sparkling. She set down her drink, curious as to what he was thinking.

"I'll corrupt you yet," he muttered, pulling her down to lay next to him on the bed. He ran one hand through her hair, eyes connected with hers. Content in his arms, Hermione allowed her eyes to slip shut, snuggling into his warm but firm chest.

Blaise traced her jaw with his thumb, trailing across her face. Her breathing hitched when his intimate caresses outlined her lips, and before she knew what had happened, his fingers had been replaced with his lips. He kissed her softly at first but she pulled him closer and kissed him harder and he responded, escalating the contact further.

There was something about the growing familiarity of his kisses, something about the fact that he was a Slytherin and her Gryffindor friends couldn't likely know, even beyond that, the fact that he was Blaise Zabini and that fact still seemed surreal, made her want more.

Suddenly he was above her, one hand beneath her back, the other buried deep in her wild curls, her body flush against his. She was unable to calm her breathing as he moved to her neck, biting, sucking. He moved back to her lips, Hermione mirroring his intense efforts, as his hand on her back snaked down to where her uniform skirt rested on her hips. Feeling where he was going, Hermione tried to hold back a whimper, and Blaise grinned wickedly into the kiss when she failed.

His fingers grazed tantalizingly over the bare skin of her thighs, and suddenly he withdrew from the kiss, instead hovering directly over her face, eyes glowing with mischief. She tried to pull him back down to her mouth but he held back, allowing his fingers to trace upwards in the lightest of touches. She bit back a moan and he shook his head in disapproval.

"Come on Hermione," he whispered, allowing his lips to graze hers. "Why don't you tell me what you're really thinking?"

"Blaise," she panted, incoherent of further speech. He trailed his fingers up further, sliding them beneath the waistband of her panties, slowly tugging them down. Her mind was spinning wildly off into euphoric madness somewhere when there was a loud banging on the door.

"Blaise you had better not be doing anything inappropriate in there," Malfoy called through the door and Hermione's brain snapped back to a semblance of reality.

"Fuck off," Blaise replied to the offending door, finally kissing Hermione full on the lips again. Under his breath he murmured, "asshole."

The knocking continued insistently and Blaise pulled away, sighing loudly. He met her eyes, his own dark with lust, and grinned lightly.

"Trust me, I do not want to have to break down the door; Granger's got to go," Malfoy continued and Hermione suddenly remembered the meeting she was supposed to attend. Blaise grumbled in Italian for a while, before releasing her and hesitantly standing up. As she stood to follow, he gazed at her, evaluating.

"Granger, you look so deliciously turned on it ought to be a sin," he pronounced, snaking an arm around her waist. Reaching for the doorknob, he kissed her one last time. "This isn't over," he promised as he pulled back.

He opened the door, glaring at Malfoy so malevolently that Hermione would have sworn she saw the blond flinch if she didn't know better.

"Don't you bloody dare give me that look," the blond scoffed. "I didn't plan the damn meeting." He took in their equally disheveled appearances and walked away, shaking his head. Unwillingly, Hermione followed after him, her cheeks hot. She waved to Blaise who shot her a wink, shoved his hands in his pocket and walked off.

-

If Hermione thought the meeting that afternoon had dragged on, it was nothing compared to the next week. Their professors had piled on so much extra work it was all Hermione could do to keep up with it all, let alone have any spare time to visit Blaise. After a close run-in with Harry and Ron in the dungeons as they were on their way back from detention, Hermione had been spooked into staying away for the majority of the week. They had stared at her oddly as she made up some hasty and flustered excuse about Malfoy having her arithmancy text, and that she was simply there to force him to return it.

The worst part was seeing him each day in classes, as he was in almost all of her advanced seventh year courses with her, and pretending as if nothing was going on. It was becoming almost a daily ritual that Harry and Ron's moods for the rest of the day would be determined by whatever they had read in the _Prophet_ that morning. Consequently, their moods were sour more often than not, and they were exceptionally observant of the Slytherins.

The only person Hermione really had to speak with about it was Lavender, who, under a significantly lighter course load than Hermione had somehow been managing to see Draco. Of course, she was pretty sure "seeing" was a loaded term, and if Malfoy's snide comments nightly on patrol meant anything, then her theories were correct. This didn't particularly make Hermione feel much better about being unable to spend time with Blaise.

And so she was forced to keep her distance once more, not wanting to risk even studying together with the amount of students who frequented the library these days. As she met his gaze across the Great Hall at breakfast Friday morning, she saw the fatigue and stress evident in his expression as well. Sneaking a glance over to ensure Harry and Ron were distracted enough by their Quidditch conversation, Blaise shot her a tired grin. Looking exaggeratedly toward the doors into the Entrance Hall, he excused himself from the Slytherin table and packed his things.

Hermione watched him stride confidently out of the hall, counted to fifteen, and slowly stood, stating the need to grab a forgotten book before class.

As she reached the entrance, she saw Blaise casually leaning against a wall next to an empty classroom with the door ajar. He nonchalantly walked through the door, and Hermione followed after a quick glance around to ensure she wasn't being watched.

The second Hermione had closed the door behind her, Blaise's lips were on hers, kissing her roughly, pressing her back to the wall almost painfully. When he pulled away, both of them breathing raggedly, he was suddenly back to business.

"So Draco's party is tonight, you still going to come?" he asked, sitting on the nearest desk.

"Of course," she murmured in reply. Inwardly she was excited for it, though it may have just been wanting to see Blaise again. Most of the Gryffindors were too loyal to attend a Slytherin party so she would not have to worry so much.

"And you're sure you can't skip patrols just this once?" he asked, eyebrows raised hopefully.

"Afraid not, Blaise. But I'm sure Malfoy will want to speed through them anyway," she replied. She could hardly imagine leaving the halls unmonitored on a Friday night.

"Oh fine," Blaise scoffed, but grinned, reaching out to play with a stray curl of her hair. "I'll be waiting for you."

Suddenly there were loud voices outside of the room and Blaise quickly glanced down at his watch.

"Shit, this room will be filling up in a few minutes. I'll see you in class, yeah?" he muttered, placing a swift kiss on her lips and exiting the classroom gracefully. Hermione gave it a moment before she too vacated the room and made her way to class, catching up with Harry and Ron on the way.

-

Blaise collapsed into the couch in his commons after class that day, tossing his bag onto the floor with a heavy sigh.

"Friday," he murmured in admiration.

"Yes, Blaise, it is," Draco replied, his drawl dripping with sarcasm. "I'm surprised; why aren't you with your Gryffin-bitch now that it's the weekend?"

"Don't be an arse," Blaise scoffed.

"Don't be so pussywhipped," the blond retorted.

"If you plan on being rude tonight tell me now so I don't bother coming to your party," Blaise commented, fixing his friend with a dark glare.

"Oh fine," Draco sighed. "You know I'm just fucking with your head, mate." Blaise shrugged, letting his eyes fall shut.

"So you think you're going to get in Granger's skirt tonight?" the blond pressed on, ignoring the dangerous glint to Blaise's eyes when they snapped back open. He gave another noncommital shrug.

"Oh, I see," Draco continued, biting his lip. "How _do_ you say; 'oh sorry, I can't get it up,' in Italian anyway?" He fought back a smirk.

Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend's antics. "Mi dispiace, non mi si raddrizza," he murmured, "_jackass_. You can use it the next time you run into my cousin Naeli, no?" Draco paled.

"That isn't funny. You know I'd kill to get her. That would most certainly not be an issue," he defended, irritated that Blaise had turned the tables on him.

"Levati dai piedi," Blaise articulated, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"You know I have no clue what you're saying," Draco reminded him.

"Chi se ne frega?" Blaise questioned darkly, standing to gather his things to take to his room.

"Forgetting something?" Draco asked lazily. He reached to the floor next to his chair, holding up two bottles of dark liquid. The brunette hesitated for a moment, before smirking, taking a bottle. They both removed the lids, clinked the bottles together, and took a deep swig.

Once the liquid reached Blaise's veins he visibly relaxed, taking a seat once more.

"You can pretty yourself up for Granger later," the blond joked, thinking for a moment. "I may owl your cousin an invite to the party tonight."

"She's too good for you, you can forget it," Blaise replied, smirking.

"I promise you I can get her to forget every horrible thing you've ever told her about me by the end of the night," Draco continued on thoughtfully.

"Thought you were hitting it with that blonde Gryff?" Blaise asked, clearly not very interested.

"And? She can join if she wants," the other replied, shrugging.

"You're insane," Blaise shook his head.

"Hey; just cause you've suddenly lost interest in sex doesn't mean _I'm_ the one who's insane," Draco shot back at him.

"Vaffanculo," Blaise hissed, taking another drink as Draco laughed at him. He knew enough Italian for that one.

* * *

A/N: Okay so I should mention I speak only basic Italian; however, my Italian phrasebook knows quite a bit of the beautiful language! Here's some translations.

Levati dai piedi: Get out of my face.

Chi se ne frega?: Who gives a damn?

Vaffanculo: Fuck off.


	6. Chapter 6

So here we go with chapter six! I'm getting a little worried, none of this is pre-written anymore and I've been trying to space the chapters out decently enough that you all won't have to wait for so long... but I'm only about 7 or 8 pages into chapter 7, though I guess we'll see how much spare time I have this week. And I'm still trying to work out a sequel to Prudence, and this pesky new bizarre little one-shot idea has hit me but I don't yet know what to do with it.

I feel like this chapter is _mostly_ random fluffy bits... but regardless, it should end up going somewhere. A wee bit sexual at the end, but it is rated M, so I don't think anything that I should really need to warn anyone of. That being said, please enjoy, please review; I feel like I'm losing sight of where this is going a little bit, so I would very much appreciate any response. Love you all!

* * *

Hermione knew something was up the moment she came across Draco waiting for her to begin patrols that night. There was something too loose about his composure, the way he laughed too loud at his own comments. The usual calculating decisiveness with which he spoke was gone.

"Evening, Grrrranger," he murmured, stalking off ahead of her. He turned to meet her curious gaze, his grey eyes sparkling with something Hermione didn't quite recognize. It hit her, then.

"Malfoy, have you been drinking?" she asked, shocked.

"Define 'drinking'," he murmured, smirking. Hermione glared disapprovingly. It grew proportionately as he pulled out a flask and took a shot from it. She scoffed, walking off ahead of him.

"Relax, Granger," he said, easily catching up to her. "With any luck we'll make it down to the party within the hour; trust me, you'll have more fun if you don't show up sober." Hermione considered his words, pausing.

"Has Blaise been drinking?" She pursed her lips. Perhaps he was right. Not that she was going to admit that to him.

"Since class ended," the blond replied truthfully. Hermione sighed heavily, putting one hand on her hip.

"Fine, let me have some then," she held her other hand out for the flask. Malfoy pulled it out of her reach, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Blaise may have a fondness for Muggle saliva, but I feel otherwise," he murmured. Hermione frowned. After a moment, he grinned. "Which is why I brought you your own." He handed her another flask, as if he'd known all along that she'd relent. Maybe he had.

"Thanks," she smiled wryly, taking a tentative sip of his wizards' liquor, after an anxious glance around. She recognized the taste as the same dark drink Blaise and Draco had once given her in Hogsmeade. It was smooth, almost like silk to the tongue, and it was delicious, with a bite.

"I'd tell you to be careful," he murmured, watching her take a large gulp, "but it won't matter later on."

As Hermione drank more, she felt herself loosening up, and found she was able to communicate almost in a casual manner with Malfoy. She felt she may have been mirroring the curious glint in his eyes within her own.

She felt fine; as she drank, the flask refilled itself, so it was hard to say how much she'd had. But she didn't particularly feel drunk, and so she kept drinking. By the time they were reaching the end of their route, Hermione was anxious for their rounds to be complete.

After issuing detention to some fifth years they'd caught drinking in an empty classroom – Hermione had snorted at the irony – Draco started walking in a different direction and Hermione followed hesitantly.

"I told Blaise I'd bring you once we were done," he informed her. Feeling a little light-headed, Hermione grinned widely, hurrying to walk alongside him.

"How is it Filch doesn't catch you when you throw parties on school grounds?" she asked despite herself, out of genuine curiosity.

"The man has many weak spots," he replied cryptically. "And I'm pretty sure Blaise paid him off." Hermione raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. Just then, Draco stopped outside of a door in an unused corridor. He placed a hand on the doorknob, but paused, holding his ear close to the door. He looked suspiciously down both ends of the hallway, and when he'd concluded the area was indeed deserted, he opened the door, and Hermione walked through after him.

Watching Draco cast a spell on the door, Hermione shot him a confused look.

"Disillusionment," he explained. "Anyone who isn't here for the party will hear and see nothing. Enjoy, Granger."

And with that he was gone, leaving Hermione to explore on her own. If she didn't know any better she might have thought she had left Hogwarts behind. The lights were dimmed, loud music pumped through hidden speakers, large groups of students were everywhere; dancing, drinking, talking. Scanning the crowd, Hermione was suddenly glad she'd taken Malfoy's advice to drink before she got there.

Feeling adventurous, she spotted the back of the head she was looking for, sneaking toward him from behind. Planting her hands on his shoulders, she'd launched herself upward, wrapping her legs around his waist before he'd noticed what had happened.

"Fucking shit," he cursed under his breath in surprise. Hermione buried her face in his neck, inhaling deeply. She took in the scent that was distinctly Blaise before dropping back to the floor, grinning as he spun around to see her.

He stared at her, eyebrow raised, smirking.

"Buona sera," he murmured in greeting, taking in her wild hair, her glazed eyes. "I suppose I'll have to teach you a lesson for sneaking up on me." He gripped her wrist hard, almost painfully, his expression that of nonchalance as he dragged her across the room.

Hermione looked around as she trailed along behind him, eyes widening in shock and fright as she saw Ginny Weasley talking to Dean Thomas and she tugged back on her wrist, causing Blaise to stop walking, turning to her with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"I thought you said there weren't going to be Gryffindors here," she hissed, being sure to keep herself out of Ginny's line of vision.

"You're here," he pointed out casually, and then sighed. "Alright, I don't know; apparently news of the party got around more than we had expected. We can keep incognito if you'd like."

Hermione ran her free hand through her hair, reaching for the flask Malfoy had given her earlier. Blaise's eyes narrowed as he saw her drinking, taking the flask from her. Breathing in the contents, he eyed her suspiciously.

"Where did you get this?" he asked quietly, his previous train of thought forgotten.

"Malfoy," she replied, confused. "Why?"

"Bastard," the Slytherin replied, taking a look around the room with a dark expression. "Oh forget it; it's just hard to come by... more expensive. I couldn't think where else you might have gotten it." He returned the flask to her, gesturing that she continue on.

The drink hit her harder in the dark room with Blaise at her side, and suddenly she grinned darkly, feeling its effects.

"Thought you were going to teach me a lesson?" Hermione asked, momentarily forgetting her housemates within the crowd.

"Mm, you're right, how absent-minded of me," he murmured, tugging her toward the wall in an empty alcove just off of the main party. He shoved her against the wall, his dark eyes glaring into hers, smouldering.

She felt his hot breath at her ear, his hard muscled body pressed against hers, and her eyes fluttered shut. He whispered something in her ear, something Italian; she felt a spasm deep within her stomach.

Want. She squirmed against his body, stopping when he inhaled sharply. She met his gaze again, and knew her eyes mirrored his. Need. Experimentally, she moved her hips against his, keeping his eyes locked to hers. He hissed, his eyes narrowed, darkening further.

"I don't think you want to be doing that," he whispered, accent prominent. He bit her lower lip, tasting it. He took a step closer, completely trapping her against the wall.

"Don't I?" she murmured. He saw the challenge in her eyes.

"No," he shook his head. "You see, Hermione, the more you tease me the more inclined I will be to just shag you right here up against this hard, cold wall. I would have no problem whatsoever with that. You, however..."

Blaise laughed, coldly, at the expression on her face.

"Don't worry," he continued. "That would be utterly un-romantic of me." With that he kissed her, and she was so aware of him she suddenly forgot which way was up.

-

The night seemed to be blurring together, into some sort of surreal haze. What shocked Hermione the most was her willingness to go with it, and to be spontaneous.

Hermione was sitting on a couch with Blaise, her fingers entwined with his, her head against his chest. She had barely flinched when Daphne Greengrass and Sally-Anne Perks, two Slytherin girls, had sat down to chat with Blaise. Hermione had even engaged in the conversation herself.

Suddenly Malfoy appeared with a girl Hermione didn't recognize, though she thought the girl looked to be Italian. Blaise's eyes widened in surprise as he jumped up to give the new arrival a hug; Hermione was almost positive she was too old to be a student, at least nineteen or twenty.

"It's so good to see you," Blaise was saying to the beautiful brunette, and Hermione's stomach twinged. But then he turned to her, the smile it seemed he reserved just for her on his features. "Hermione, my cousin Naeli; Naeli, this is Hermione." The girls exchanged a smile.

He sat back down, tossing an arm around Hermione's shoulders, though his eyes narrowed as his cousin took a seat quite close to Malfoy on the other couch. The blond leaned in to murmur something in Naeli's ear, his eyes focused on Blaise; he smirked as the girl laughed, resting a hand on his leg.

"Jackass," Hermione heard Blaise scoff under his breath and she laughed joyfully, taking his free hand.

"Don't be a grump," she said, tugging him up as she stood. "Let's get some drinks?"

"You know my weakness," he mocked, grinning. "Always too clever for your own good." He located his bag, returning with two drinks.

He opened one of the bottles, taking a deep swig. He ignored Hermione reaching to get the other drink, keeping it from her grasp. As she tried to get closer she merely found herself trapped in Blaise's arms, no closer to her drink than before.

"Blaise..." she warned, attempting to be menacing. She failed, giggling, the liquor in her system taking control.

"What?" he asked, oblivious. "You can share mine." He took another sip, before displaying his tongue out to her.

Hermione rolled her eyes, leaning up to press her lips to his. She tasted the drink on his tongue, burying a hand in his thick hair. He pulled her closer, kissing back. She grinned against his lips, reaching her free hand around to where he held the unopened drink. Taking advantage of his distraction, she pried the bottle from his hand before slowly pulling back, victorious.

She licked her lips, meeting his gaze. She smiled. He smiled back.

"Technically, I won anyway," he murmured, taking her hand.

"Oh no, Blaise," she replied, shaking her head. "You may not have lost, but I certainly didn't either."

She turned away from him, freezing in horror as she came face to face with Ginny and Dean. She briefly wondered how long they'd been standing there, but the look on Ginny's face told her. Long enough. She felt suddenly very aware of Blaise's hand in hers. His eyes narrowed as he saw the way the two Gryffindors were looking at Hermione.

"Gin," she began, biting her lip.

"Save it," the redhead replied. Her eyes flashed to their hands. Blaise tightened his grip. "Slytherin, Hermione? Honestly, you were the last person I would've expected betrayal of."

"You talk pretty big, Weasley," Blaise commented, his eyes dark.

"Shut _up_ Zabini!" Her voice rang. He took a drink, unaffected. He twisted a stray curl of Hermione's hair between his fingertips.

"You seem so opposed to Slytherins..." he continued on, taking a pause. "How ironic. Don't suppose he knows." He gestured toward Dean, sneering. Ginny's gaze flitted in his direction as well.

"Rumours," she said dismissively. "Unfounded, at that."

"Not the way Nott tells it." He spoke as if having a conversation about the weather, and Hermione kept silent, not knowing what he was on about. Ginny's composure was beginning to crack.

"Nott couldn't tell the truth if his life depended on it," she replied shortly.

Blaise turned to consider Hermione, pressing a kiss to her temple. He wrapped his arms around her waist and when she didn't resist, Ginny's expression turned to that of disgust. She gave Hermione one last disappointed look before turning away.

"Gin, don't–" Hermione began.

"I won't." She was cut off by the younger girl, who had turned back around. "But you had better tell them, or I _will_, Hermione. I'm not happy."

"Shame," Blaise cut in, not a trace of emotion to his face. "'Cause I'm thrilled." Ginny shot him one last glare, her eyes flashing, before she walked away.

Hermione sighed heavily, frowning.

"She'll get over it," he assured. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

She nodded, allowing Blaise to pull her toward the door. Lavender caught up with them just as they were about to leave.

"Oh, Hermione, Blaise; have you seen Draco?" she asked, scanning the room.

Blaise looked across the room to where Draco and Naeli had been not too long ago. They were no longer there.

"No," he replied shortly.

"Maybe I'll go see if he's in his quarters," she pondered and Hermione met Blaise's eyes. That wouldn't go over well. He nodded.

"That probably isn't the best idea." Lavender looked at him for a moment, confused, before comprehension dawned and her face fell.

"Oh, I see," she murmured, sinking into a chair. Blaise, not sure how to deal with two distraught female Gryffindors at once, excused himself with Hermione, getting her out into the hallway.

Out of the room, Hermione felt suddenly exhausted and found herself having difficulty keeping a straight line. Finally Blaise laughed and tossed her over his shoulder, ignoring her struggling. Hermione fought to get free, shoving a knee into his chest, giggling madly as he reacted to the pain, cursing her.

He ignored her the rest of the way to the dungeons, and Hermione started as it dawned on her where he was taking her. After she realized he wasn't going to let her go she had surrendered, and was now staring blankly as he hauled her into the Slytherin dormitories, through his common room and tossed her onto his bed, kicking the door shut behind him.

She bit her lip, not sure what to expect. She wished her head wasn't so cloudy. She didn't know how much Blaise had drank.

He stood next to the bed for what felt like ages, holding Hermione's gaze. His expression was carefully neutral. She would've traded _Hogwarts: A History_ to know what he was thinking.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice sounding very small. Finally he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, allowing a slight smile to grace his features. The tension didn't vanish, however.

He collapsed onto the bed, lying next to her. Rolling to face her, he slid an arm beneath her neck, pulling her closer.

"C'mere," he murmured. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Hermione was thrown off after his more urgent kisses earlier in the night. Somehow this felt significantly more intimate. He buried a hand deep into her hair and her eyes fluttered shut as she instinctively snuggled into his warm form.

"Hermione," he spoke softly, and it was more like an exhalation than a word, and she opened her eyes again. He paused for a while before speaking. "This is difficult to articulate. You and I both know how narrow-minded the majority of people in this school are. I'm no Gryffindor.

"Regardless, that doesn't mean I don't care about you. I don't want to see your friends treat you poorly because of this. We knew from the start people wouldn't be accepting."

He looked pained, his brow furrowed. Hermione reached a hand to touch his face, skimming her fingers over his jaw and cheekbones. His expression relaxed.

"Anyone who's going to judge either of us for this doesn't matter," she murmured, keeping his eye contact. "I know you, and I trust you."

"Maybe... you shouldn't." He looked away then, frowning. It felt like a subtle warning, an admittance of something illicit. A shiver ran down Hermione's spine. Blaise's actions contradicted his words as he pulled her even closer, thinking she was cold.

"Maybe not," she agreed softly. "But I do. Irrational as it may be, I care about you too."

"You think they're going to tell Potter and Weasley?" He questioned, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

"I don't know. Ginny was quite mad," she replied, worry tainting her words. "But I don't think so, at least not right away." He evaluated her words, lips pursed. His eyes were a troubled storm.

"I have this implicit sense that... I don't know, that I should be able to tell you anything. That you'll listen. And it's bizarre, since I rarely tell anyone anything. Not even Draco." He spoke softly, and she was enraptured by his words.

"But at the same time," he went on, "there are so many things I just cannot say." He had never been quite so vulnerable. He was always so sure of himself, of everything he did. That was one of the things that Hermione found so utterly Slytherin about him. He didn't seem to have insecurities.

It was a stupid assumption to make, really. Because who, among all educated people, never had any doubts?

"I'll listen if you want to speak," she found herself saying.

"I know." He gave her a wry smile, then sighed. Battling with his inner emotions. "I'd like to hope that what I say can stay on the level of Blaise to Hermione; nothing more. Me to you." She nodded, sliding her hand into his, entwining their fingers. Giving it a short squeeze.

"I received an owl from home a few days ago; he's... trying to convince my mother to join him. For a long time she's remained neutral, but her current husband is a supporter. I don't bother learning their names anymore." Hermione couldn't keep the shock from her face, but was able to hold back the gasp of horror that nearly tore loose. "Draco and I both think she might be about to cave."

Hermione buried her face in his chest; he pulled her even closer to him.

"Sometimes I feel like it may just be easier to go along with it, for her sake. But then I feel like I'm giving up some integral part of myself that doesn't want to choose a side. And I know I'm just kidding myself, and I will have to choose, before it's too late. Maybe it already is. It doesn't feel much like a choice anymore as it is."

He fell silent, and Hermione withdrew from his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Instinctively she knew he wasn't waiting on a response, and she was glad. Because, really, what could she say to that? She found herself terrified for him, hating even more the dark side for the hopeless tone to his voice.

He kissed back, tilting her head for better access. It was short, and heart-breaking. It made her want to cry.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered as he pulled back.

"You won't," she replied. Hermione was surprised at the certainty in her voice. It was as if her resolve had hardened while he spoke. There was no way she could simply back out, apologize for wasting his time, and continue on with the knowledge that his family was under a dire threat and he felt she was worthy enough to be informed.

Hermione felt betrayed by her internal systems as she yawned widely, and he looked at his watch, mildly shocked.

"It's past four," he murmured. "Do you want me to walk you to Gryffindor Tower?"

She knew she should say yes, make an attempt to navigate the hallways without drawing notice. After all, who knew if the party was still going on in another part of the castle? There were probably plenty of students about. But his bed was so comfortable, and his arms around her were so secure, and she just couldn't leave him like this, so she shook her head. In truth, she couldn't believe she was awake so late at all.

"No? I don't want to let you go on your own," he hesitated, misreading her intentions. She smiled, squirming loose from his arms. He gave her a curious smile, eyes glinting. She had enough room to reach beneath her and pull the covers up over her body and she saw his expression click in comprehension.

"Oh, no," he laughed, standing up quickly.

"I can't just stay here?" she asked, pouting for effect. "Gryffindor Tower is so, so far away."

"I told you not to trust me," he was smirking. "I don't even trust myself with you in my bed."

"But..." she trailed off, meeting his gaze.

"But you know I'll not turn you away; what sort of man would that make me?" He was grinning now. He walked over to his closet, tossing her a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, shrunken to fit her. "That can't be comfortable to sleep in." He was referring to her Muggle outfit; jeans and a sweatshirt.

Hermione took the proffered items and hastily ran to his adjoining washroom. Walking back into the room, she paused as she saw the look on his face. He took in her long, bare legs, his dark eyes glowing.

"I like this look for you," he murmured, placing his hands on her arms, massaging up to her shoulders. "You look like mine."

"Me sleeping with you is not the same as me sleeping with you," she suddenly felt the need to mention. He laughed.

"I know. That doesn't change the fact that you look amazing." He mussed her hair a little, inspecting her. Making her look disheveled. His next breath came sharper. "I hope you don't mind I sleep in boxers." He raised an eyebrow, smirking when she quickly shook her head, biting her lip.

He loosened his tie, removing it. Slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, Hermione got the impression that he was teasing her. Not wanting to allow Blaise victory over her, she reached out and quickly undid the remaining buttons. He stared at her with humour, waiting for her to continue undressing him if she so chose.

She removed his shirt, running her hands over the sculpted chest and arms she'd been dreaming of. Taking her time in exploring. He was gorgeous. His breathing hitched, his eyes fluttered shut and he groaned something in Italian.

"Your words and actions are misaligned, Granger," he growled. "If you are expecting me to believe we are merely to sleep with one another, do not mislead me into thinking we are to _sleep_ with one another."

She snorted at the threat, but took her hands back, allowing him to undo his belt and remove his pants. She stared at him, drinking in the sight, and he leered back at her from under heavy eyelids.

"Alright, get into bed," he requested. Neither of them moved. Hermione was torn; she wanted to touch him. She gazed into his eyes, confused. She could taste the tension.

She had resigned herself to turning, crawling into bed to sleep, when he was suddenly pressed against her. One of his hands was in her hair, tilting her face to his, the other was boldly sliding down to grip her bottom. His lips were harsh against hers, and she entwined her arms around his neck, kissing him back with fervour. He attacked her neck with his teeth and tongue, and Hermione ran her hands down his chest, marveling in the way his body reacted to her.

She slid her hands experimentally across the muscles of his lower stomach, around his hips to his back and he pressed into her, groaning. He kissed her again, with just as much spirit as he had before, and Hermione simply could not get close enough to him. Her mind, still slightly hazy, was spinning out of control as she kissed him back, biting, desperately. He ground his hips wildly against hers, lifting her thigh to wrap her leg around his waist, then the other. Hermione moaned deep in her throat at his actions and he took a step toward the bed, tossing her down.

Blaise stared at her for but a second, her hair uncontrolled, her lips swollen and red, gazing up at him, before he was back on top of her, recreating the glorious friction between their lower bodies. He kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her hot, willing mouth, and he was sliding the loose t-shirt up, nearly to her breasts, his hands touching her exposed stomach and abdomen. The simplest of his touches had her going crazy, panting, needing more, desperate for him. She was crying out, his name, nonsensical syllables, random expressions of passion.

"Are you wet for me, baby?" he whispered in her ear and slid a hand beneath her bum again, jerking her middle painfully against himself.

"Yes, I – Blaise–" she stumbled over her words, too delirious to form a sentence. His hands fell to the waistband of his boxers she was wearing, tugging them down over her hips. Instinctively she bucked up, and he pressed another searing kiss to her lips as he dipped a finger into her core, pushing her underwear aside. Hermione wasn't sure how much more pressure she could endure and found herself begging, for what she wasn't sure. She couldn't imagine surviving what he was doing to her now, felt herself going mad, spiraling off somewhere, when she snapped.

It felt like an explosion, her vision went black; She screamed Blaise's name, riding out the wave of overwhelming pleasure. When she was able to assemble coherent thoughts once more, she opened her eyes, meeting Blaise's. He brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly licked them off. Hermione was surprised by how sexual it was. Suddenly realizing he had not been satisfied as she had, she brought her hands to his shorts, about to slide them down when he froze.

"Stop," he whispered, breathing heavily. Hermione was confused. "I'm sorry."

"Blaise, you–" she tried and he cut her off.

"Forget about me. I violated your trust; I apologize."

His conscience had taken over? Now?

"I hardly think that matters now," she murmured, blushing red. He closed his eyes tightly. He pushed himself off the bed, walking over to the washroom. He paused, his hands on the doorframe, his head hung low.

"I hope you'll excuse me; I just need a moment." And he was gone. Hermione didn't have the slightest clue what had come over him. Her body was still singing with climax and he had taken off so fast she could practically feel the gust. She reached down to the floor for her wand, casting a quick _Scourgify_ on her underwear and boxers, which were now moderately uncomfortable.

And then he was back, as quick as he had left. He shot her a grin that had her heart beating in overtime, and crawled back into bed next to her. His chest to her back, his arms wrapped around her.

"I apologize again, you irresistible girl," he murmured. He laughed shortly. "So much for just sleeping with one another."

"Are you alright?" she asked. She pressed her feet back against his, and he tangled his legs with hers.

"Never better," he replied. Pressed a kiss to her jaw. "Buona notte."

"Night, Blaise," she whispered back, suddenly finding it impossible to fight the tug on her eyelids. She fell into a deep sleep, dreaming in silver and green.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys! I offer chapter seven now while I have two seconds before school, but cannot say how long it will be before chapter 8 is released. I apologize in advance if it's a long wait; it's a very busy/stressful time right now, doing the last of my projects, preparing for finals, working too much and trying to organize my trip to Prague. Regardless, I'll do what I can, and enjoy!

* * *

Hermione was awake long before she opened her eyes. She felt very sensitive to her surroundings and instinctively knew something was different. She wanted to reach for her wand but didn't know where it was.

Her mind was racing. She wasn't alone; she could feel arms around her and hoped they belonged to Blaise. This wasn't her bed. She was afraid to move in case her stomach revolted and tossed. What in Merlin's name had she done last night?

She opened one eye. It was definitely Blaise. Shirtless. Before she allowed herself to panic she chanced a quick look down at herself. Though not in her own clothing, she was clothed nonetheless. She exhaled the deep breath she'd been holding, re-adjusting her position slightly. Blaise stirred, his eyes flickered and settled on hers, his lips curved into a faint smirk. She gave him a weak smile.

"Hi," she murmured, wincing at the sharp stab of pain that shot through her skull.

"How do you feel?" he asked, softly.

"Like I've come out of the losing end of a fight with a Hippogriff, to be honest," she admitted, biting her lower lip. Rolling herself away from him, she ran a hand through her hair. "What time is it?"

Blaise took a quick look to the clock on his bedside table, "nearly eleven." Hermione's eyes widened, her composure falling away.

"I've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," she stated, trying to stand. After a moment's hesitation, she sat back down, dizzy. Blaise lifted himself to lean on his elbow, watching her. Hermione tried to stop her mind from getting carried away at the sight of his chest.

"I tried to tell you that last night," he replied, laughing. He shrugged. "You wanted to stay."

And just like that the memories started to pour back in. Remembering all she had done, she flushed bright red, refusing to meet Blaise's eyes.

"I, erm... sorry–" she muttered, wishing he would stop smirking. "Thanks, though. For stopping." She bit her lip, feeling beyond awkward. Fleetingly, she wondered if she knew any spells that would allow her to fall into the floor.

She couldn't even remember how much she'd drank the night before; she was so embarrassed!

"I didn't want you doing anything you'd be bound to regret," he said lightly. He'd sat up next to her and forced her to meet his eyes. Suddenly she was struck with another thought.

"Merlin, Blaise, your mother." She didn't know what to say; his brow furrowed but he smiled, a bit too delayed to be a natural reaction.

"Don't worry about it, we'll be fine," he assured her.

"I don't want you to be forced–" she began, but he cut her off.

"I certainly won't be _forced_ into anything," he said shortly, almost harshly. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of that. The air between them suddenly felt tense and awkward, until he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I'll take care of things," he went on. He pressed his lips to her temple. "You've got enough to worry about with Potter and Weasley." Hermione just nodded numbly. Gin had been so angry...

"I guess I should go," she murmured, her eyes slipping shut. What she wouldn't have given to stay in his warm embrace and avoid the world.

"If you must," Blaise said, looking much the same way as she felt.

It took all her of restraint to stand once more and prepare to go. Blaise stood and watched her, eyes twinkling. She kissed him goodbye, only catching onto his expression once she'd pulled back.

"What is it?" she asked, confused.

"As much as I like you in my boxers, I doubt the rest of the school will find the idea such a good one," he grinned, placing his hands on her hips. Hermione flushed as she realized that she was indeed still wearing his boxers, having left her clothes in the washroom the night before.

Quickly, she pulled away and hurried into the washroom to change. She came back out, a disgruntled look sent toward Blaise, and held out his clothes.

He laughed, taking the garments from her outstretched arm.

"I'll set them aside for next time, shall I?" he questioned, brow raised.

"If you've that much confidence that there will be a next time," she shot back. Finding it impossible to be cross with him, she grinned, winking.

He appraised her for a moment, before pulling her close and giving her a deep, lingering kiss. Evaluating her dazed reaction, he leaned in close to her ear.

"Yes, fairly confident," he replied, smiling.

"Bye, Blaise," she commented, tossing him a look of defeat before she left the room. She snuck through the Slytherin common room to avoid being seen and quietly exited out into the dungeons.

She grinned lightly to herself in victory, thinking she was out of the woods when she turned the next hallway and saw Pansy Parkinson walking toward the Slytherin commons. She visibly cringed.

"Granger, what are you doing down here?" the other girl sneered, placing her manicured hands on her hips.

"Just passing through," she replied, attempting to be polite to avoid a scene.

"You had better keep away from Draco and Blaise," Pansy hissed, eyes narrowed. "I know what you're trying to do. Blaise doesn't even _like_ you, he's just–"

"Pans," a voice called and she stopped short. Draco Malfoy was striding toward them gracefully. Hermione groaned; they had her outnumbered now. "Nott and Goyle are Huffle-baiting outside of the potions room; fuck off and leave Granger alone."

Hermione blinked. What? But Pansy's eyes had lit up with glee and she hurried off in the direction the blond had mentioned, without sparing Hermione another glance.

Malfoy was now standing next to her, observing her with cold eyes.

"What was that about?" she questioned, breaking the silence. "I can take care of Parkinson just fine on my own."

"I know," he murmured, breezily. "That doesn't mean you should have to."

Hermione fought hard to keep the shock from her face. She suspected Polyjuice; this certainly wasn't Malfoy. She eyed him cautiously, turning away from him to walk the opposite direction.

"Good time with Blaise last night?" he asked. He was still to her back and she paused. Okay, it_ was _Malfoy. She could practically taste his sick enthusiasm regarding her and Blaise. And the fact that she was still there this morning.

"You'd like to know," she stated, a slight smile playing at her lips. She turned, meeting his gaze. He stared back, one brow raised.

"No, not really." And he was gone.

Hermione stared blankly after him for a moment, before continuing on her way to Gryffindor Tower.

-

Hermione was starting to get damn tired of those looks Ginny Weasley kept shooting her. And the way she would always look pointedly at Harry and Ron, chatting away in blissful oblivion.

There was no way she was going to get through her Charms essay like this.

"Gin, my dorm for a moment if you don't mind," she bit out through clenched teeth. Ginny huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She stood up and beat Hermione to the doorway up to the dorms without even looking back. As soon as they were both safely in the dorm, Ginny spun to face Hermione.

"Yes? Are you going to give me a good reason why I shouldn't tell them about your public snogfest with Malfoy's best mate last night?" The redhead's eyes flashed dangerously, and Hermione froze.

"Ginny, you know I'll tell them in due time," she reasoned. "I just need some time of my own to figure out what's going on."

"I don't think you'll tell them," Ginny responded, looking skeptical. Hermione was about to start panicking, she could feel it. She should have talked this over more with Blaise.

"What was that about Nott?" she asked, suddenly remembering. Ginny paled.

"Oh, people need to sod off already and quit talking about that!" she hissed. "It was _one_ bloody night and he has the most amazing body, I couldn't help it. And he practically _drugged_ me, you know?" Her expression was desperate. Hermione blinked, taking in the gossip that she'd never heard before. Which was evidently not so much gossip as truth.

"He drugged you? Gin, did you tell anyone?" Hermione questioned, suddenly concerned.

"Well, he didn't exactly, I suppose. I'm not sure, he gave me this bizarre drink and at first it was almost painful to drink, but then I couldn't stop," she trailed off, looking at the floor. Her face was bright red.

Hermione froze, her eyes wide.

"What did it look like?" At Ginny's confused glance, she elaborated, "the drink he gave you."

"It was almost black, I'd never tasted anything like it before. But I could tell there was more than just alcohol in it," she murmured. Hermione took a deep breath in.

"What do you mean by that?" She fidgeted with a loose thread on her skirt.

"Oh, you can infuse wizards' liquor with substances other than alcohol for different effects; it's supposed to be pretty dangerous though, especially if you don't know what the results are going to be," Ginny explained. "I don't know where Nott would have got that."

"Hogsmeade," Hermione found herself choking out. "There's a pub there, most people from Hogwarts don't even know about it. They sell that drink there."

"How do you know that?" Ginny asked quietly. Hermione paused.

"Malfoy mentioned it once, just in passing," she replied.

"Did he say what it was infused with?" the younger girl persisted.

"No, he... failed to mention that part." Hermione ran a hand through her tangled hair, giving up on the futile attempt to fix her curls.

A quiet voice in the back of her head was whispering _Slytherin_ in a mantra of self-imposed guilt, but she pushed it away. If there was anything seriously wrong with the drink Blaise and Malfoy wouldn't have been drinking it themselves. And Blaise certainly wouldn't have given her any...

"You should try to find out," Ginny was saying. "And I suppose I can leave it to you to tell Harry and Ron about Zabini, although I really think the best thing to do would be to break it off."

Hermione had almost forgotten about that.

"That won't be happening," she stated shortly. She somehow didn't feel as sure as she would have an hour ago.

"Then I guess I'll have to try and figure out what _you_ could possibly see in a Slytherin." With that, Ginny gave her a wry half smile and left the dorm. Hermione, head throbbing and mind racing, collapsed backward onto her bed, burying her face with a pillow.

-

For a lack of any better way to vent her confusion, Hermione spent the rest of the weekend locked up in Gryffindor Tower, voraciously poring over her volumes of homework. She excused herself from meals in the hall by stating that her workload was getting the better of her; she snuck into the kitchens when hunger became dire.

Gryffindor courage be damned, she was afraid of what she may end up saying if she ran into Malfoy. Or Blaise. It was irrational, she knew. But that dratted little voice in her head was just getting louder and louder. _Never trust a Slytherin_.

Not only had she uncharacteristically drank copious amounts of wizards' liquor, but she had only discovered after the fact that it may not have been liquor at all. That it may have had dangerous affects on her. She knew she should trust Blaise.

She kept _telling_ herself just to talk to him about it. But hadn't he told her not to trust him? She felt lost.

And so she kept her head in her books, her most effective method of coping with anything new or uncertain. It had been for years.

-

Monday morning came sooner than she would have liked. She was so torn between wanting to believe that Blaise wouldn't do her any harm, and wanting to know the truth, regardless. But she didn't; what if Ginny was right and the substance was dangerous?

She found herself stubbornly ignoring the Slytherin pair through a particularly long and tedious arithmancy lecture. She could feel Blaise's dark eyes on her back, but kept her focus on the professor throughout.

After class, she saw Malfoy quickly pack his things and assumed Blaise had done the same, so she lingered, taking her time to place her supplies back into her bag. When she was certain she had to be the last one left in class, she turned to the door.

She froze as she saw Blaise standing in front of her. His bag was slung over his back, his hands in his pockets. Hermione knew simply by his stance he was unsure of something.

"Are you alright?" he murmured quietly, looking down to meet her wide eyes. She couldn't hold his gaze for long and was forced to look away.

"Of course, Blaise. I've just a lot on my mind," she replied, attempting to sound light and carefree. She moved to walk away but he stopped her, raising one hand to grab her arm.

"Are you sure? You haven't looked at me since Saturday morning. Was it Weasley?" He sounded so genuinely concerned that Hermione bit her lip, feeling a flood of guilt overcome her.

"Oh, no. The chat with Ginny went surprisingly well."

"Then that's good." He took a careful look at her unschooled expression. "Isn't it?"

"It's great." She fixed a smile onto her lips, finally assembling the courage to look him in the eye. "We've got to get onto the next class then, yeah?"

"I suppose so." Blaise looked less than convinced. He leaned in to kiss her but Hermione lifted a hand, ruffling his thick hair instead. She had intended it to feel like an affectionate gesture, but had an unsettling feeling it was more like a physical attack.

Flushed in the cheeks by embarrassment, Hermione quickly hurried out of the classroom. She had to be the _worst_ actor ever. Blaise's expression as he watched her go with disbelief agreed with the sentiment. But she shook it off and made her way to class, settling herself between Harry and Ron, keeping her eyes on her notes for the rest of the morning.

Hermione made it through the rest of the day in much a similar manner, mindfully keeping her eyes from meeting Blaise's across the hall, in class, in the hallways after class, at dinner. She felt like such a coward.

After dinner she retreated to the library to get some work done, settling down at her usual table. Exhaling a deep breath, she drew her books from her bag, intent on finding her focus. A quarter of the way into a potions essay, she heard a stir behind her but brushed it off.

"Merlin, Granger, what's crawled up your ass today?" She froze, sighing heavily.

"Malfoy I don't have time right now, go away."

"Not until you answer my question."

"Mind your business."

It was obvious, however, that he wasn't about to relent. Hermione slammed her quill down, glaring at him as he took a seat at the next table over.

"If you think Blaise isn't my business, you're sorely mistaken, Granger." His harsh gaze penetrated her mind and she looked away. She was too mentally drained to deal with him.

"There's nothing wrong. Bugger off." She ran a hand through her hair.

"Is that the message I should relay to your boyfriend?" He raised a brow at her. "I've got some news for you, Granger. I've known Blaise since we were in diapers; he's the closest thing to a brother I've ever had. Blaise doesn't give a _damn_ about what girls think of him, ordinarily. Until now."

At this Hermione looked up, curious.

"He's been going off all bloody day about you avoiding him. Since it's so unlike Blaise, I reckoned I ought to look into this. Now, what the fuck?"

He had her trapped. She knew she hadn't been subtle, but hadn't expected Blaise to make much of a deal over it. She wondered why Malfoy cared to bother with her, rather than just telling Blaise to move on.

"I thought my doubt was your victory over me, Malfoy," she commented darkly. He pursed his lips. "After all, you always warned me against getting involved with Slytherins."

"It was, and I did. Until I realized that you're okay for him. Like I said, I've never seen him like this over any female that isn't his mother." Hermione smiled absently at that comment, before shaking it off.

"I just need some time to process some thoughts," she said evasively.

"That means shit all to me, Granger. If I recall correctly, you were obsessed with Blaise just weeks ago. Now you've got him, and what? You're avoiding him. Make up your bloody mind." He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. Hermione allowed his words to sink in.

"I do care for Blaise, I'm not avoiding him, per se," she murmured, choosing her words carefully. Malfoy would sneer at her if he knew the truth.

"Then bloody talk to him. I don't want to have to put up with him and this mood he's in. If you've got doubts I'd suggest you mention them before they get out of control." He sighed exaggeratedly. "What can it hurt?"

Not that she'd admit it to him, but Malfoy's words gave her the courage she'd been seeking all day. She bit her lip; she would be better off just talking to Blaise. At least she might be able to unload this new weight from her chest.

"I suppose I'll go see him, then," she muttered. She packed her things back up, standing to leave. "Are you coming?"

"I've got Quidditch," he brushed her off with a wave of one hand. Yet he continued to sit there and hadn't moved when Hermione vacated the section with a backward glance.

Outside of the library the hallway was cold and Hermione shivered, crossing her arms over herself. She had to be exaggerating over this whole ordeal anyway. Perhaps Ginny didn't know what she was talking about.

But the redhead would be more likely to know about that sort of thing than Hermione. In all that she had read and studied over her years at Hogwarts, wizarding liquor had never come up. Not that she'd ever looked.

Maybe it wasn't dangerous at all. Unless it was, and it was causing adverse side effects on her brain at this very moment. If Nott had used it to loosen up Ginny to sleep with him, then maybe Blaise...

No. He wouldn't have. After all, given the chance he'd been the one to stop anyway. Hermione paled. She wouldn't have stopped him. Not in the state she'd been in, at least. Had she really been acting that different from herself on Friday night? She could distinctly remember having a conversation with some Slytherin girls, snogging Blaise in front of other students, most of whom she had intentionally gone out of her way to keep in the dark, and... more drinking.

She shook it off. It was just the liquor. And as her liquor tolerance was almost nonexistent, it was no surprise that she'd been a little off.

Yes, she would go down to Slytherin and talk to Blaise. She trusted him. It was exhausting to worry like this.

"Hermione, where are you going?" She jumped, snapping out of her train of thought. It was Harry, staring awkwardly at her from down the hall.

"Just leaving the library," she murmured, forcing a smile. "What are you doing out?"

"Quidditch practice," he replied. "Gryffindor Tower is that way." He pointed behind him, the opposite direction that Hermione had been headed.

"Yes, I was just taking a bit of a stroll around the castle." Hoping he would accept the white lie, which was, in actuality, quite true. "I thought Slytherin had the pitch tonight."

"No, we do," he paused, "where did you hear that?"

"Oh, Malfoy was blabbing about it in the library just now," she murmured, an absent wave of the hand.

"That isn't right, I booked Monday nights weeks back." Harry was puzzled, his hand tightening around his broom.

"Check the schedule, Potter." Malfoy had joined them. "You had _last_ Monday, we've got it tonight." He held out the magically updated pitch schedule that all Quidditch players seemed to keep on them at all times. Sure enough, it stated that Slytherin were due to practice then.

"I _booked_ it for tonight, I'm positive," Harry stated through clenched teeth. It didn't take much to set him off these days, and Hermione frowned. Malfoy was a particular sore spot with the black-haired boy lately, and she didn't want to witness if this altercation got out of hand. "You must have changed the schedule."

"We certainly aren't that desperate for practice time as to bloody mess with the schedule," Malfoy stated conversationally. His eyes flashed and betrayed his tone. Harry's free hand curled into a fist.

"My team is already out practicing," Harry bit out.

"How interesting, so is mine," the blond threw back.

"I can't imagine that to be so, as my team doesn't surrender the pitch that easily." Harry had edged closer. Malfoy stood his ground.

"Your team doesn't have a fucking choice, Potter," he hissed.

"Calm down," Hermione found herself murmuring, though the last thing she wanted was to get involved. Harry's hand was shaking in anger, and Malfoy had a vicious sneer on his features.

"Stay out of it, Hermione," Harry said coldly.

"Some way to treat your friends, Potter," Malfoy stated.

"Like you know anything about friends."

"Stop it, _both_ of you," Hermione cried, stepping closer. "Can you not share the pitch for tonight?"

They shot her similarly exasperated looks. _No, they couldn't._

"Well fine, scrimmage for it then," she snapped. Almost instantly she regretted the comment, as Malfoy's brows raised, smirking. Harry glared, his eyes full of a challenge.

"Alright," he murmured, eyes locked on Malfoy's. "First team to one hundred points, snitch trumps and takes the match."

"Deal, Potter," Malfoy commented, throwing his head back and stomping outside to the pitch. Hermione walked behind carefully with Harry, concerned for what may ensue.

She had never been much to watch Quidditch, especially practices, and here she was sitting on edge in the bleachers, eagerly anticipating what was to come. It was almost amusing. Apart from the fact that she was terrified.

She watched as the two boys spoke to their equally disgruntled teammates, explaining the situation. And the match began, and Hermione nearly forgot that she had planned to go see Blaise.

It was very clearly a grudge match, that much was made obvious instantly. Without a referee, anything went, and Hermione wanted very much to cover her eyes and not watch, as bludgers flew at skulls, and chasers fought one another midair.

The Slytherin chasers were shooting toward Ron, guarding the hoops, and Hermione gasped in horror as two of them mauled him, pulling him away as the third made an easy shot. But Ron escaped, and one of the Gryffindor beaters took aim and shot a bludger into the leg of a Slytherin. Hermione nearly gagged at the sickening thud. She really should run and get someone, but was afraid of what might happen if she left.

Suddenly Malfoy shot past her, obnoxiously close, a green and blond blur. She followed his trajectory and saw a sharp flash of gold. She bit her lip, willing Harry to see, a small part of her hoping Malfoy might actually catch it. Then Harry saw, and there was no way he would make it in time; Malfoy was almost at the other end of the pitch, the small golden ball nearly within reach.

Harry called out to one of his beaters, a fifth year whom Hermione didn't know, who tossed him his club, and Harry swung wildly at a bludger. Hermione was on her feet, furious at the blatant attack, but horrified to watch as the bludger smashed into the tail of Malfoy's broom, tossing him off from the force, as he had been leaned precariously over the front.

Instinctively, Hermione whipped out her wand and cast the first spell that came to mind, but he was falling too fast, and all she managed to do was soften the landing. Her stomach rolled as he crashed to the hard ground, not soft enough, and she heard faintly the impact from a distance. He didn't move.

She ran down to the pitch, the game had halted instantly. Harry looked pale, as he gazed down at his nemesis, his mouth open slightly. Malfoy looked oddly twisted in an unnatural position and Hermione sprinted over to him, feeling for a pulse.

She was relieved to find one, and looked up at Harry as he landed nearby, her eyes brimming with tears.

"How _dare _you, Harry!" she shouted, incensed at his low attack. She could hardly imagine he had stooped to that level. "Get him to the hospital!"

"Hermione, what are you–" Harry began, but Hermione's rage cut him off.

"I don't give a damn that he's Malfoy, you've done this to him and it was a _bloody stupid_ move, and now you've got to help him!" She angrily wiped away the tears that had spilled over.

Hermione turned from him, to watch the Slytherin team carefully haul their seeker off to the hospital wing, and Hermione followed at a distance, biting her lip. She clenched her own arms with shaking fingers, not caring what the other Gryffindors thought about her behaviour. Harry had absolutely no justification to physically attack him.

In the hospital wing, as Madam Pomfrey bustled about, Hermione stood awkwardly off to the side, the only visitor apart from the anxious crowd of green-clad athletes. None of them seemed to care that she was there. Harry and the others hadn't followed her.

Her eyes were still leaking rather profusely and she fumed silently, not quite believing her friend would allow a dumb Quidditch issue to escalate so much.

The blond was still lying motionless, though she wasn't entirely sure it wasn't due to the potions the nurse had been pouring down his throat. At the declaration that he would be in pain for a while but would make it through just fine, Hermione choked on a sob, and turned to leave.

Just then the door to the hospital swung open and Blaise walked in, his brow furrowed. At first he looked anxiously to Draco, then he saw Hermione, eyes red with tears, and his expression reacted with shock.

She felt slightly ashamed, suddenly remembering that she had meant to talk to him, that she'd been ignoring him all day. That he'd been bothered over it. He stared, assessing her for a long moment, before he walked over and ran a thumb beneath her eye, wiping away the tears.

She bit her quivering lip, feeling much like an emotional basketcase, before she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. He hugged her back, tightly, and kissed her hair. In front of his Slytherin mates, who were watching the pair in shock.

Hermione didn't care, because it meant the world to her, and she inhaled his familiar scent, and just for the moment, allowed herself to forget everything.


	8. Chapter 8

Here is chapter eight, kids. I hope you like. I apologize for the delay, life's kept me plenty busy, and I've spent most of my free fanfiction time dedicated to luckei1. She's an amazing writer.

There are getting to be quite a few loose strings in this story, and I have a feeling they're about to become quite tangled. Stick around :) I hope to get chapter nine out before I leave, as I will be going to Europe to study abroad for a couple weeks at the start of May. We'll see how things go. Review, I love them. I'm absolutely thrilled at the response to this story. And now...

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Hermione was furious. She thought Harry was being completely ridiculous. If he hadn't attacked the Slytherin she wouldn't have been upset with him. He had challenged her defense of Malfoy the very next morning.

She couldn't help but feel inclined to take Malfoy's side when Harry acted so immature about it, though she maintained to herself that it had nothing to do with the recent decrease in animosity between them. Not to mention Harry was never around anymore. Naturally, word had spread around the entire school what had happened, and Harry had landed himself detention through the end of Seventh Year.

After Blaise had comforted her in the hospital wing after the accident, Hermione had gone for a walk with him, hoping he wouldn't press her for the reason why she had been avoiding him. Thankfully, he didn't.

He had come along with her as she did her nightly patrols, and then had followed up on Tuesday and Wednesday, as Malfoy was still confined to the hospital wing. Hermione was relieved to feel things were back as they had been before her conversation with Ginny. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know anymore, because she knew she had every reason to trust him.

Hermione knew Blaise was on edge about his mate; the looks he shot Harry in classes were hard to ignore. He took care not to say anything to her about it, though. He was often ragged and tired, as he spent most of his time in the hospital wing, and was falling behind in his schoolwork and sleep.

While they knew Malfoy was only still in the hospital through Pomfrey's paranoia, Blaise was stressing himself out over the situation. Hermione knew it wasn't concern for Malfoy's well-being, but rather anger at Harry's callous attack.

Blaise tensed if she so much as mentioned Harry's name and so she usually steered the conversation elsewhere.

"Draco wanted to talk to you," Blaise commented Wednesday evening as they wandered the castle, looking for students.

"Oh?" She didn't know what to say; Malfoy had never wanted to simply talk to her. "What about?"

"He didn't say," he replied, looking pensive.

"Perhaps I'll go see if he's still awake," she commented. The hospital wing was just a few hallways over. Blaise took her hand and walked her the short distance. Hermione reached for the door just as it swung open and Lavender Brown stepped out, eyes widening in surprise as she saw them.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, her voice oddly high pitched.

"Just visiting," Blaise murmured. He raised an eyebrow. "And you?"

"Same," the girl replied, shrinking back into the door. "I wanted to be sure he was alright."

Hermione suddenly felt sympathy for her housemate. Malfoy had basically tossed her aside at the party the other night in exchange for Blaise's cousin, and though she didn't know what exactly was going on with Lavender and him, she was sure it had to be upsetting. And here she was, concerned enough to pay him a visit.

"He'll be fine," Hermione assured, offering Lavender a smile. She gave Blaise's hand a squeeze.

"Yeah," the blonde girl replied, relief tainting her tone. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Have a good night." With that, she walked off hurriedly, fixing her hair.

Hermione, now confused about both Lavender and Draco, walked quietly into the hospital, ensuring the nurse was not around. The blond was sitting up, reading a book and stared at her and Blaise as they walked over.

"Blaise said you wanted to talk to me," Hermione murmured, feeling awkward. He nodded shortly, lips pursed.

"A moment?" he asked of Blaise, and the Italian took the hint, slipping off to inspect the wall some distance away. Hermione's confusion amplified. She stared at him expectantly.

"So, Pomfrey claims I've been in a pretty serious condition," he began, "and if the level of pain involved in the healing process is an indication, she was right." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "Apparently, had it been much worse, I wouldn't be so lucky right now. The impact nearly killed me. Did you cast a spell on me?"

Hermione flushed, not entirely sure what he was talking about. She had cast an incantation to slow his fall, not that it had done much of anything.

"I felt it, and it was the last thing I remember before a whole lot of nothing," he continued, taking her silence as admittance. "And you were the only one who had a wand on you in that stadium."

"Yes, I did," she bit her lip, looking away. "I tried, at least. You were falling so fast I nearly missed you."

"It turns out you may very well have saved my life," he murmured, exhaling deeply. "I wanted to thank you."

"It was just instinct," she insisted, feeling her face bright red. Not once had Malfoy ever thanked her for anything.

"Still, for what it's worth, Granger. I've been unnecessarily antagonistic to you, even when you started going with my best mate. Most of it's just for show." He smiled wryly, and Hermione hesitantly smiled back.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said quietly, looking away. He didn't say anything, deep in thought. Hermione looked up and caught Blaise's gaze; she gave him a grin and he walked back over. Draco assessed his mate, smirking.

"The team ambushed me yesterday," he said conversationally, "about the two of you." Hermione tensed almost imperceptibly, but Blaise glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Something about shared affection the night I landed in here."

"Is that so?" Blaise murmured, his expression betraying nothing. "And what did you say?"

"I told them to quit being gossipy Hufflepuffs and ask you themselves," he replied, eyes glowing.

"Nott mentioned something about it this afternoon," Blaise stated, carefully avoiding Hermione's eyes.

"You didn't tell me that," she commented in a low voice.

"Because it was just Nott," he replied, matching her volume. She opened her mouth to speak back but was interrupted.

"Irregardless," Malfoy snapped, continuing. "It made me wonder what _you_ were doing, running along after my teammates to see me." He looked pointedly at Hermione.

"I'm not heartless," she scoffed. "Harry got you with a cheap shot, one that I'm still upset with him for. And you're Blaise's best mate; I wanted to be sure you were alright." She blushed red at the smirk on the blond's face.

"Not your brightest moment, but I'll pass it off as a Gryffindor thing," he said, after a moments' pause. Blaise snaked his arm around her waist, pressing his lips to her temple. She settled into him, her momentary irritation about Nott having passed almost as soon as it had come over her.

"I admit it may have been rash," she began slowly, biting her lip. "Has the team told anyone else?" Blaise laughed shortly, his arm tightening around her.

"Slytherins don't spread social gossip around," he murmured in her ear. "Not to other houses, at least." She noticeably relaxed, though still worried, her brain churning.

The list of people who knew about her and Blaise seeing one another was rapidly getting out of control. From Draco and Lavender, to Ginny and Dean. Then to Sally-Anne and Daphne, and then the entire Slytherin quidditch team. The more people who knew, the more likely the rest of the school was to find out.

Ginny and Dean were being temporarily silent, but Hermione knew that was bound to change if she didn't say something soon to Harry and Ron. But with the whole Malfoy Quidditch fiasco, she was even less inclined to tell them, simply because she knew well enough exactly how they would over-react.

In the same breath, she also knew how impossible it was to keep a secret for long around Hogwarts, and she would much rather they hear it from her than some less reliable source. She winced visibly at the thought. Blaise looked at her curiously but didn't mention it.

"We should get going," he murmured, still staring at Hermione. Malfoy nodded in reply, turning back to his book.

Back in the hallway, the damp air had cooled drastically and Hermione couldn't stop a shiver from chasing down her spine. Blaise looked at her, evaluating, then at his watch.

"Let's get you to sleep," he told her. His expression was neutral but eyes were shining oddly and it took Hermione a moment to realize it was because he was leading her down to Slytherin. She laughed out loud, pulling out of his grip.

"I really think I ought to go to Gryffindor," she reminded him. Her resolve crackled as Blaise unleashed upon her the power of his eyes. Shaking him off, she went on. "This is becoming enough of a problem as it is, all we need is for me to disappear at night."

"Who will notice you gone? Lavender?" he scoffed, smirking.

"And Parvati, and who knows who else," she retorted, a hand on her hip. He lifted a hand, ran it up her side and linked his fingers with hers, tugging her hand away to him. He took a step closer and she swallowed unwillingly.

"I wonder," he murmured, meeting her eyes. "How often do you fall asleep in the library?" She looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor.

"On a fairly regular basis," she admitted. Blaise leaned in, stopping when his face was an inch from her ear. His hot breath made her shiver again, for a different reason than she had just moments ago in the cold.

"And why can't we pretend my room is the library?" he whispered into her ear and Hermione very nearly took him up on the request in her next breath. Instead she steadied her mind, eyeing him warily. He moved away, frowning when he saw her expression. "To sleep, Hermione. That's it."

"I knew that," she replied, and knew she wasn't very convincing.

"Sexual coercion comes later," Blaise continued. He winked. "I do have a good number of books in my room. You can read them if that would make you feel better about it."

He was mocking her and Hermione refused to bite. Suddenly he tensed, his eyes narrowed. He walked back down the hallway from where they came, indicating Hermione to stay where she was. He leaned against the wall, waiting for something.

Suddenly a black-haired boy in a Slytherin uniform crept into the hallway, looking cautiously around him. Blaise smirked.

"Detention, Williams," he spoke softly and the boy visibly jumped.

"Damnit Zabini, you tosser," he cursed, glaring. "You can't give me detention."

"Sure I can; someone's got to what with Malfoy in the hospital." The boy froze, trying to determine if Blaise was bluffing or not.

"Well, where's Head Girl?" Williams questioned, looking around suspiciously. Blaise jerked his head in the direction of where Hermione was.

"That way somewhere," he murmured, shrugging.

"I don't believe you have the power to give me detention," the boy stated, crossing his arms and staring at Blaise.

"Fine," Blaise said dismissively. "Oy, Granger!" Hermione saw the boy look around and took her time in walking over. She stared at the younger Slytherin, thinking him to be around fourth or fifth year. He shot her a look of loathing and she raised her eyebrows.

"You're a little past curfew, aren't you?" She questioned, ignoring the way his eyes were burning a hole in her skull.

"Like that's your business," he sneered. Blaise laughed, watching with interest.

"Alright then, here you are," she murmured, reaching into her robes and handing him a magically binding detention slip. Williams stared at the slip as if it would burn him, then scoffed and walked away.

"I'm not taking anything from that filthy Mudblood," he threw over his shoulder at Blaise. Hermione tensed at the word but knew better than to let it affect her. However, the boy didn't make it far before he found himself stopped by Blaise's wand pointed directly at his face. Hermione nearly shuddered at the look in Blaise's eyes.

"I _strongly_ suggest you take that back, Williams," he murmured, his hand perfectly still.

"What's the matter with you, Zabini?" the younger Slytherin asked, looking slightly doubtful of himself.

"We don't use that word anymore, or didn't you hear?" Blaise asked in a low voice. "Especially on her."

"What, are you in love with her or something?" the boy asked with a smirk.

"Likely," Blaise drawled, seeming suddenly uninterested. "Fuck off and I won't tell Malfoy about your nonsense."

"That's rubbish, Blaise," Williams muttered, before walking back and violently snatching the detention slip from Hermione's hand. Hermione smiled mockingly at him as he turned away and stormed off, shooting Blaise one last dirty look.

Once Williams was gone, Blaise ran a hand through his hair, looking wearily to Hermione.

"That kid's been trouble since he set foot in Hogwarts; he practically worships Draco," Blaise informed her.

"I figured," Hermione replied, biting her lip. Had the Slytherin picked up anything from Blaise's quick defense of her? "Blaise, maybe you shouldn't have–"

"I know," he cut her off. He messed his own hair almost aggressively. "I just reacted before thinking."

"I'm sure it's fine," Hermione assured, running a hand down his arm. He took her hand, linking his fingers with hers, then lifted her hand to press a kiss to it.

"Let's just go, it's late and I'm exhausted," he murmured and started walking, still holding her hand. As they were nearing the end of the hallway there was a scuffling noise and the swish of a cloak. Hermione froze and looked to Blaise.

"Maybe I should just go to Gryffindor," she stated, attempting to disentangle her hand.

"We're nearly to the dungeons already," he replied, holding her hand firm. "If that was Williams and he saw anything he won't breathe a word about this until he's asked Malfoy about it, trust me. He'll set him straight."

"Okay, I believe you," Hermione said after a pause, biting her lip. "I'm just concerned is all."

Blaise gave her a strange look, almost hurt. He stared closely, calculatingly, before looking away. When she started to ask him about it, he shook his head, instead walking her the rest of the way to Slytherin, which was mercifully quiet and they managed to get to Blaise's room without another complication.

As he walked into his closet, Blaise paused. He handed her the sleepwear she'd borrowed the last time she had stayed there with a smirk.

"Didn't I say there would be a next time?" He raised his eyebrows and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh fine, you were right," she admitted, shaking her head. Blaise kissed her deeply, lingering, before she ran off to change. Within minutes she was secure in his bed, falling fast asleep.

-

"I could get used to this." Hermione lazily rolled onto her side to watch Blaise writing a letter, his expression puzzled. "Waking up in your bed." Blaise grinned.

"So could I, I'm certain," he replied. He stored the parchment he'd been writing on to the side upon seeing she was awake. "You had a bit of a lie in; you'll have to explain that one to your housemates."

"They know I frequent the library before breakfast," she admitted, blushing light pink. "And sometimes through breakfast."

"No worries then," he replied, eyes glowing. He watched as Hermione stood, walking over to his desk.

"Who are you writing to?" she questioned, tilting her head to see the parchment he'd been working on. He casually slid the letter under some other papers, meeting her curious gaze with an innocent expression.

"No one of importance," he murmured, brushing it off. "But I was thinking of something I wanted to mention to you."

"What is it?" she asked tentatively, not quite letting go of his refusal to let her see the letter.

"Well, after last night–" he was cut off by a loud bang outside of the room. He walked to the door, cautiously turning the knob.

"Blaise," a cold voice drawled. Malfoy was standing on the other side of the door. He peered in. "_Granger._"

"You're out," Blaise commented. "Good."

"Yes, finally," the blond replied distractedly. "I'm actually glad you're both here; I have a bone to pick with the two of you. About the fact that your _secret_ relationship is hardly a secret anymore."

Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. What had happened, who knew now?

"We were about to speak of that," Blaise stated quietly. They were? Hermione didn't quite know what was going on, and it was unnerving.

"I received a surprise visit from our favourite pest Clydell Williams this morning." Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione snorted despite herself. "Need I elaborate?"

"Nope," Blaise replied, tossing an arm around Hermione's shoulders. She had visibly tensed at Draco's words.

"I assured him he was confused, and spun him a web of lies which he bought, however, either you two are getting careless or some celestial being _really_ wants you to be revealed." He folded his arms over his chest.

Blaise stared at Draco for a long moment. Hermione was fidgeting anxiously with her sleep clothes.

"You should get to class," he suddenly said, and Hermione was shocked to see she had only a few minutes to make it there. She hesitated, not wanting to leave the conversation. "We'll chat later."

Choosing not to be late for class, Hermione was forced to quickly change and leave, sending Blaise a confused look as she went. He gave her a fleeting smile and she fought to feel re-assured. Really, this should've been more important, but class today was a particularly necessary NEWT review session.

She walked off, heart heavy. Blaise and Draco were still silent.

"I know that look in your eye, Blaise," Draco finally said once Hermione was gone.

"What look?" The brunette narrowed his eyes.

"The look you get when you're plotting."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking." Blaise paused, running a hand through his hair. "Mother's been owling more frequently than ever. She's confused, and she's crumbling. I don't need that sort of personal association; you know how badly I wish to remain neutral."

"Either you want to break up with Granger, or you want to go public with Granger," Draco stated, evaluating his friend. "This middle ground is driving you mad, I can tell. By exposing your relationship it'll counteract the bad press. She won't take kindly if you go about this the wrong way."

"She's driving herself into an early grave worrying over Potter and Weasley," Blaise said disdainfully. "Something's going to happen, and soon. Is it the end of the world if I just encourage it a little?"

"You're playing with fire, Blaise," the blond murmured, grey eyes sparkling. "Granger is not the sort you want to be burnt by."

"Of course not; she means too much to me. That's the other reason I want to do it, I feel like she's ashamed of this. She doesn't even want to fathom the idea of her friends knowing." Blaise frowned, deep in thought.

"I won't tell you what to do, mate. Granger cares for you; whether or not it's more than she cares for her friends, I don't know. She's pragmatic to a fault." Draco suddenly jolted, inspecting his watch. "I suppose we should make an appearance in class."

Blaise shrugged, though the last thing he felt like doing was attending class. He quickly grabbed the letter he'd written earlier, tucking it into a pocket to send off later.

"Oh, Blaise, one other thing," Draco said as they were walking. "You're already pushing the boundaries. Do you want to risk being associated with their sort? It's only half a step past neutral, wherever the border is. She's _Hermione_ _fucking Granger_, but you know that."

Blaise remained silent. He exhaled a deep breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. It seemed this required a bit more thought than he'd originally anticipated.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys. Here is chapter nine, in time for me to leave tomorrow for two weeks. It'll be a while for the next update, but hopefully worth the wait. :) I wrote another Draco/Hermione one-shot if anyone's interested... kidding. I love all you readers and reviewers; hearing what you think about the story is the reason it's come this far already, otherwise I certainly wouldn't have been motivated enough, as often happens with me. So drop a line, a suggestion, or just enjoy :) Until next time!

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Hermione sat anxiously through the last half of transfiguration, eager to track down Blaise at lunch. He had met her anxious gaze a couple times during class, but had only offered her a distracted smile. The rest of the time he kept his head down and concentrated on taking notes. She might have found the situation amusing, if her mind wasn't elsewhere. Usually she was the one with utmost focus and Blaise was the one who couldn't wait for lunch.

Finally, class ended. Hermione hurried to pack her books into her bag, looking up to see Blaise and Draco deep in conversation. She bit her lip, as Draco looked over to see her staring. He paused in what he had been saying, and Blaise turned to see what he was looking at. He shot Hermione a wink, and she glanced around the room, wishing everyone else would hurry up.

"Miss Granger, a word, if you will?" She jumped at the sound of McGonagall's voice. Attempting to hide her eagerness to leave, Hermione walked up to the front of class. She saw Blaise hesitantly follow Draco from class and felt her hopes crash.

"Yes, Professor?" She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"I was wondering if you would perhaps do me a small favour," McGonagall began, observing Hermione over her glasses. "I've ordered something from a particular shop in Hogsmeade and it's just arrived this morning. But I need it by this afternoon at three o'clock and will be teaching lessons until then.

"I am aware you have a free period after lunch and thought perhaps you would be able to pick it up for me." Hermione swallowed; she found that whenever McGonagall asked a favour, it usually wasn't a question.

"Of course, I'll go as soon as I'm done lunch and bring it to you before three," she replied, smiling.

"Excellent," McGonagall said, checking her watch. She handed Hermione a slip of parchment with the shop's address on it. "Well, off to lunch." With that, she swept from the room, and Hermione followed.

As Hermione was late to lunch, the only available seat was between Ron and Ginny. Mentally pleading Ginny wouldn't make a scene, Hermione hesitantly took the seat.

"Oh Hermione," Ron began, turning to her, "Harry and I were just discussing maybe working on that charms project after lunch. You in?" He was looking at her expectantly.

"Actually, I've got to run an errand for McGonagall," she replied apologetically, biting her lip. "Maybe later this evening?" Ron nodded his agreement, satisfied. Hermione loaded her plate and began to eat.

"What was that you said, Hermione? An _errand_?" Ginny had joined the conversation, giving Hermione a meaningful stare, her eyes slightly narrowed. "What _sort_ of errand?"

"An errand to Hogsmeade," she replied evenly, trying to keep herself in control.

"Uh huh," Ginny replied, looking and sound unconvinced.

"Why would I lie?" Hermione challenged, her eyes now narrowing as well.

"Oh, right, you're just all about the truth these days, Hermione, aren't you?" The redhead threw down her fork. The two girls smouldered at one another for an extended period before Ron waved a hand between them.

"What's going on?" he questioned, confused.

"Hermione has something she needs to tell the two of you," Ginny sneered, directed at Harry and Ron.

"You do?" Harry asked, looking bewildered at the heated exchange. "What is it Herms?"

"Nothing, Ginny must be confused," she replied, not tearing her gaze from the younger girl.

"Not even slightly," she replied coldly. "Hermione, we've been through this. You said you would tell them ages ago."

"I have to go," Hermione blurted, standing up from her barely touched lunch, and left the hall, eyes threatening to tear up from frustration.

-

Blaise looked up as Hermione walked past without so much as looking his way. He nudged Draco, watching as Harry and Ron questioned Ginny, who was glaring at Hermione's back.

"Told you something was about to happen," he commented, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. Draco smirked. "Looks like it's well on its way."

"Honestly, I think you two were dreaming to presume you'd be able to keep everyone in the dark in the first place," Draco replied, picking at his lunch.

"I'd better go find her," Blaise sighed, taking one last bite of his bread and leaving the table. As he walked by the Gryffindor table, Ginny Weasley gave him a loathsome glare and he raised an eyebrow, sneering back at her. Blaise surveyed the three Gryffindors with distaste, mildly reveling inside when Potter and Weasley also threw their best Slytherin-reserved glares at him.

When he emerged from the hall, he was shocked to see Hermione was at the far end of the hallway already. Taking a cautious look around, Blaise hurried to catch up to her outside of an unused office.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, and she gasped in surprise until she saw it was only him.

"What are you running from?" Blaise asked in a quiet voice, meeting her eyes. He smiled.

"Ginny," she scoffed. "I reckon she thinks she's in control of my life. She told Harry and Ron that _I_ have something I need to tell them." Try as she might to stay angry, she was rapidly melting under Blaise's gaze.

"Why are you so afraid of them knowing?" he asked, almost whispered. He ran a hand through his hair, settling it on Hermione's shoulder. He took a step closer, deeply inhaling. "I think it's obvious that it's only a matter of time."

"I thought we agreed..." Hermione trailed off, looking away from his eyes.

"I know we did," Blaise said gently. "But I've been doing a lot of thinking. Is it really the end of the world if the rest of the school knows? I'm sick of pretending I don't care about you."

He ran his hand up her neck, tracing his thumb across her cheekbone. Tilting her head, Blaise pressed his lips to hers softly, wrapping his other arm around her back. Hermione responded, burying a hand in his thick hair, allowing the kiss to intensify. Once his words had sunk in, however, she pulled back, feeling stunned.

"This is irrational, Blaise," she murmured. "NEWTs start in a week. Surely we can wait a bit longer, and then we'll have much less to worry about."

Blaise frowned; this wasn't how he'd hoped for it to go.

"Are you ashamed to be seen with a Slytherin?" He couldn't help it, his eyes grew cold and his words came out a little sharper than intended. Hermione recoiled, eyes widening.

"Of course not, that's ridiculous. I just think there are a lot of considerations to take into account," she reasoned.

"Like Potter and Weasley," Blaise muttered pointedly. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his robes and the top buttons of his shirt undone due to the warm weather.

"And Malfoy, and your mother, and oh, I don't know, the war?" Her eyes flashed and her brow furrowed and she jerked away from Blaise as though he'd burnt her.

"Draco has accepted this, my mother doesn't care what I do, and it's not as if I'm a Death Eater," he listed easily.

"Not yet you aren't," Hermione snapped, instantly regretting it as his gaze suddenly filled with hurt and anger."Blaise, I didn't mean–" She reached for his arm, but he ripped it away, shaking his head.

"Don't you dare," he said in a low voice, his tone shaky. "You know I don't want that."

"I know," Hermione replied, gently, wishing she could take back her last statement. He was staring rather fiercely into the floor. She felt miserable. "Well, I've got to go. I'll see you in Arithmancy later." She paused a moment, and Blaise gave a short nod, still looking resolutely away from her.

Hermione hurried from the room, her eyes burning, threatening to let loose. How could she have said such a thing? Blaise had every right to be upset with her. Regardless, she was still on a time budget for McGonagall, and had to hurry to get into Hogsmeade. As she walked, she couldn't remove the mental image of Blaise's cold eyes, completely shutting her out. She wanted to cry.

Before she knew it, Hermione had made it through the gates into the village, and reached into her pocket for the address her professor had given her. She didn't recognize the street name, and suddenly realized it could potentially take a long time to find the shop she was looking for.

She started wandering away from the centre of the village, into the area where there were more residences than businesses. The street looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't recall how. The tall trees were blocking the sun, and Hermione suddenly felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She was about to ask for directions, when she saw that the next street over was her destination.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione began towards the street, finding the shop with relative ease and having no trouble securing the package. Smiling to herself, Hermione emerged back into the road.

She remembered how she had found the next road over so familiar; just a few doors down was the small pub that Blaise and Draco had once taken her to, where she had first tasted that mysterious black drink she'd given so much thought to since.

Though she knew she ought to return to school, her free period had hardly even begun and she still had plenty of time to make McGonagall's three o'clock deadline. She found herself outside of the front door, biting her lip nervously. The building itself reminded her of her row with Blaise, and she nearly turned away and ran. However, instead, she walked in.

Some inner stream of thoughts propelled Hermione to the bar, where she awkwardly took a seat, glancing surreptitiously around.

The white-haired old barkeep walked over, eyeing her up curiously.

"What'll it be, missy?" He asked, an eyebrow raised at her less-than-cool composure.

"Oh, nothing, thanks," she murmured, jumping. What was she thinking?

"Nothing," the barkeep repeated. "Are ye with the Ministry then? 'Ere to check on me business?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Hermione replied, shocked. "To be entirely honest with you, I have a few questions."

This wasn't what the old man had been expecting. He froze, taking another solid look at her.

"Let's 'ear it then," he murmured.

"Well," she began, feeling nervous. "I was here once before with some friends, and had a certain drink. I just cannot recall the name of it. It was black, liquor mixed with... something else."

The barkeep visibly jumped, now looking at her warily.

"And ye're sure ye aren't with the Ministry?" he asked, and she noticed he had a nervous tick.

"I'm positive," she replied with wide eyes.

"And 'ow did ye get 'old of this drink then?" he questioned, still looking as if he didn't quite trust her. Hermione sighed, wondering exactly how much information he was willing to hand out. Maybe this was pointless.

"Two, well, friends, of mine gave it to me," she replied.

"An' who might they be?" he asked, obviously not willing to let this go without a fight.

"Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini," Hermione murmured. She watched as the barkeep did a double take, his eyebrows shot into his disheveled hair, and he was suddenly looking at her closely, inquisitively.

"Why, you wouldn't be the young miss Master Zabini speaks of often, would ye?"

"I'm not sure, but I am seeing him, if that's what you're asking," she replied, hesitantly.

"Ah, yes, that'd be the one then. Miss 'Ermione is it? Sharp as a tack, 'e says." Hermione felt a sudden swell of pride; Blaise had told this man about her?

"That's me," she replied, flushing pink.

"That boy is quite taken with ye, if the word of an old barkeep is anythin' to go by," he informed her, and again, Hermione felt a flash of regret run through her at the way she'd argued with Blaise earlier. "Now, is this the drink ye referred to?" He conjured a small glass with black liquid in it, and Hermione took a very small sip.

"Yes, that's the one," she said, relieved that the man was now more than willing to help.

"Is called Black Magic, ye see," he started to explain, suddenly alive with story. "Ancient wizarding liquor brewed with a liquid form of raw dark magic. Oh, ye can't judge raw dark magic based on what certain practitioners of them dark arts make it to do." Hermione had slammed the glass down so hard it had shattered at the words dark magic, and the barkeep had vanished the mess with a leisurely wave of his wand. Hermione felt a wave of nausea coming on.

"What do you mean by 'raw' magic?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"Raw magic is what the body does before a child reaches 'is magical inheritance. Before the magic can be channeled through a wielding device and incantations," he held up his wand, and Hermione nodded, "it is considered raw. An' see, miss, traditionally, dark magic was nothing more than the opposite of light magic. Night to day; the other side of the magical Galleon. Everything in nature must 'ave its opposite.

"A wizarding liquor is complex to brew, much like potions; the best potioneers make the best drinks, as ye must know how the ingredients will react to each other, and to the drinker."

The man spoke with such fervour, such passion, that Hermione was drawn in, and found herself truly fascinated. He was clearly much more than a simple bartender.

"I heard somewhere that it's dangerous to mix liquor with magic," she stated after a pause, biting her lip.

"Aye, it can be. That be why I'm cautious who is interested in the drink. A drink like that, the results lie in the intent. Dark magic 'as been manipulated for many, many years now, through the dark arts. It depends on the caster of the spell, and much the same case exists 'ere. Dark magic can do things beyond the capabilities of light magic, if the intent is good. This is why so many enjoy the drink.

"'Owever, if I gave ye a bottle, and ye were to pass it to an enemy, the magic becomes manipulated to yer will and purpose. It will do to the drinker what ye wish."

Hermione felt her frantically racing brain come to a satisfied halt. Blaise wouldn't intentionally have done her any harm, even if she wouldn't know the exact effects of what had happened. There would be none.

But then she froze. At the party with Blaise, they'd been drinking other liquor. The only time she'd had this Black Magic drink was before the party, when she'd been given it by Malfoy. Who was _much_ more likely to have offered it to her with malicious intent, and laugh about it later. After all, she had been shocked that he had given her anything in the first place. She still hardly knew him; it was certainly something he would do.

The barkeep was staring at her, his eyes sparkling. She gave him a nervous grin, and he continued on.

Hermione took an immediate liking to the old man. He was knowledgeable, fascinating to listen to, and highly amiable. He didn't seem to judge anyone based on ability, blood, or family. It was only too easy to get caught up in conversation with him.

She learned his name was Billy Jenks, and that potions had been his first love. He had a wife named May, going on forty-three years of marriage, and three grown kids. And he had known Blaise and Draco since they were fourteen; some of the stories he recounted made Hermione laugh out loud, her temporary rift with Blaise forgotten.

She told Billy about her dilemma between Blaise and her friends, and Billy had just sighed and winked.

"Yer friends might be upset with ye, 'Ermione, but the 'eart wants what the 'eart wants, and friends learn to accept that."

Suddenly Hermione realized how long she'd been sitting there. She frantically searched out the time and learned that she had missed the first half of arithmancy, and had only twenty minutes to get the package back to McGonagall. She said a hasty farewell to Billy, promising to come back again, and hurried off back to the school.

Hermione made it back, out of breath, just as McGonagall's class was let out. She quickly delivered the package and turned in the direction of the arithmancy classroom. Her class had also just been dismissed.

"Where have you been?" Blaise asked in an undertone as she passed. He looked anxious.

"I'll tell you in just a moment," she replied, biting her lip. "I've got to speak with Professor Vector quick."

She walked into the room where the professor was still organizing her materials and apologized, explaining how she had been on an errand for Professor McGonagall. She received the homework assignment and quickly left, hoping Blaise had not gone far.

He was leaning against the wall, head down, his hair in his eyes. He looked up as she walked out, his expression neutral and impossible for Hermione to read.

"Perhaps we should talk," she remarked, feeling suddenly nervous.

Blaise opened his mouth to speak, just as Professor Vector bustled out of the room. She took a curious look at the two students, standing close and staring at one another. She gave the pair a brisk smile and continued on.

"I agree," he replied, brushing the hair from his face. "I hadn't realized you felt so... strongly about certain things."

"I didn't mean to say it, Blaise, you must know," she whispered, feeling the sense of loss wash over her again. Blaise was regarding her as if she were a stranger. He gestured to the now empty classroom and Hermione took the hint, walking in. He closed the door behind him, then locked it.

"Where were you this afternoon?" he asked, breaking the tense silence.

"McGonagall asked me to do her a favour; I went into Hogsmeade to pick up a package."

"The whole afternoon?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I... I got caught up," she murmured. Did she want him to know she'd been investigating?

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking suddenly worried. He had evidently mistaken her unwillingness to elaborate as some fearful or unpleasant happening.

"Oh, yes, nothing bad," she assured, smiling faintly. Whether or not he was upset with her, he was still concerned.

"So," Blaise began again after a pause. "I didn't intend to freak you out at lunch by saying I didn't care who knows about us."

"I know. And I didn't intend to insinuate anything about you in the war. Honestly, it was the worst thing I could have said, and I didn't even mean it." Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes, her brow furrowed.

"I know," he murmured, taking her hand. "I know you have reasons other than Potter and Weasley."

"My reasons are cowardly, Blaise," she replied instantly. "I thought a lot this afternoon, about what you said earlier. And you're right. I want this to be real, and it can't be real if we're constantly sneaking around to be together. I'm going to tell Ron and Harry this evening, and after that, I don't care who finds out."

Blaise stared at her for a moment, comprehending. Slowly, a smirk, then a true smile graced his features.

"Yeah?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Hermione repeated, and hardly blinked before she was enveloped in a crushing hug, laughing at Blaise's reaction. When he pulled back, he planted a kiss on her lips and met her gaze, his hands on her shoulders.

"What made you change your mind?" he asked.

"I suppose it was in part to do with my getting caught up in Hogsmeade this afternoon. I'll just say I had a long chat with a new friend, and he reminded me to follow my heart," she remarked mysteriously, grinning at Blaise's raised eyebrow.

"Maybe I would rather not know," he said uncertainly.

"Probably." Hermione winked at him.

"And maybe I'm going to kiss you now."

"Probably."

And he kissed her, hard, and with what little conscious thought that remained, Hermione figured that really, what was the worst that Harry and Ron could do to her? Then Blaise's tongue was on hers, and his hand was in her hair, and she suddenly found that thinking about Harry and Ron was particularly unnecessary at the moment.

-

Hermione steeled herself as she walked into the Gryffindor common room, her two best friends at her side, after dinner. They were to finish a charms project, and Hermione had decided to allow the homework be completed before she put the two of them in a bad mood. Which she was certain the news about her and Blaise would do.

She was distracted the entire time, and more than once Harry or Ron had asked if she was alright.

"Of course; just tired," she'd reply with a smile. Once the assignment was finished, the three put their books away and lounged in front of the fire, enjoying some rare and valuable relaxation time.

Hermione was enjoying the silence far more than she had hoped, as it had been a long time since the three had last sat around the fire, silently but comfortably, just them. However, she was now finding herself almost eager to tell them, whether or not they would accept her admission.

She plotted the best way to begin, the best ways in which to soften the blow, or to potentially prevent any fights from escalating. Suddenly Ron stirred.

"Think I might go for a fly," he commented, making to stand.

"Wait, Ron," Hermione blurted, forgetting her careful thought process. "I need to tell the two of you something, and if I don't right now I don't know when I'll next get the chance."

"What is it, Herms?" Harry asked, leaning in toward her.

"I've been seeing Blaise Zabini." Her eyes widened at her own not-so-subtle delivery, but she felt a large weight lift off her chest all the same.

The two boys gaped, mouths open, for a tense moment.

"Oh, that's funny," Harry finally said, laughing a little. "Almost had me for a sec."

"Oh!" Ron said, catching on. "Yeah, that was good! Hermione dating a Slytherin." He was laughing harder now, enjoying the 'joke' with Harry.

"I meant it, you two. We've been together a while. He's really quite nice." She added the last for good measure. The grins instantly fell from the boys' faces.

"_Zabini_, Hermione? You're not joking?" Ron furrowed his brow, turning red. She shook her head negative and Harry coughed loudly.

"Do you realize who Zabini is best mates with, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, and she could tell he was fighting to keep his tone even.

"Yes, I know him and Malfoy are mates..." she began, feeling at a loss for words. She suddenly felt the need to defend him. "He's not that bad, this year. I think he's–"

"The Quidditch pitch!" Harry suddenly shouted, comprehension dawning. "_That's_ why you were so keen to make sure he was alright from the accident!"

"I was keen because it _wasn't_ an accident, Harry," she said sternly. The last thing she needed was this debate again. "I know this is hard on you two, but you need to trust that I know what I'm doing and that Blaise makes me happy."

"I don't care if he makes you cake on Christmas morning, you can't date him!" Ron suddenly broke in, his face turning redder by the second.

"Oh, I certainly can, Ronald," Hermione replied, folding her arms over her chest. "You two refuse to see past the Slytherin title to realize that they are only human."

"And like they haven't taken every possible opportunity to ridicule us for being Gryffindor!" Harry threw back. "You, too! How many years have they called you rotten names?"

"Draco and Blaise are not the same person, Harry. Blaise has never, in my very sharp memory, called me any such names." She pursed her lips, staring at the two boys. So far they had done or said nothing she hadn't expected.

"Draco, she called him," Ron commented to Harry, a look of disbelief on his face. "I can't believe this. Hermione, this is absolutely ridiculous; what are you thinking?"

"Plenty, Ron, and right now I'm thinking that you're being a brilliant arse," she fumed, standing up. "I wanted to tell you two, because it's been bothering me to keep secrets from you, but I am not going to sit here and be yelled at, so I will be on my way, and you two had better think about this, because I am serious about it."

With that, she left the Gryffindor common room with one last look at Harry and Ron's angry, hurt, and stunned faces, slamming the portrait behind her. She quickly apologized to the Fat Lady, who had been napping soundly, and started walking toward the Slytherin dorms, a faint smile on her face.

Harry and Ron would take some time. And if they decided not to come around, she could do the same. And come NEWTs, they would be frantically apologizing, suddenly accepting of her and Blaise in exchange for study help. She wasn't sure yet whether or not she would oblige.

With that thought, a small bounce entered her step. Harry and Ron upset with her, she could deal with. She was used to that. This odd new form of liberty was something entirely different, and she quite liked it. Perhaps she would even stay with Blaise tonight. After running patrols, of course.

Hermione entered the Slytherin common room, ignoring the dark glare Pansy Parkinson was giving her, made her way to Blaise and Draco's dorm, and knocked on the door.

Draco opened it. He raised an eyebrow and looked behind him.

"Now isn't the best time," he stated, turning back to her.

"What do you mean? Is Blaise here?" she asked, her spirits deflating rapidly.

"He is." Draco paused. "I'll ask if he wants to see you, hang on."

Before Hermione could ask what he meant, the blond was gone. Hermione waited impatiently for him to return, her brain spinning wildly with thoughts. Had something happened? Was Blaise not alone? She swallowed heavily, brushing that thought away.

"He's in his room." Draco was back, looking as disinterested as ever. But there was a faint edge to his tone, and Hermione began worrying again. She walked down the hallway, gently pushing the door to Blaise's room open.

He was collapsed on his bed, his face buried in his pillow and Hermione froze, not expecting this. He rolled over when she entered, offering a sardonic smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him.

"Everything's peachy," he grumbled. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was tousled beyond non-magical help. Then he frowned. "I'm glad you're here."

"What happened?" she asked simply, leaning over to run her fingers through Blaise's unruly locks.

"I've received a letter from my mother," he said bitterly. His eyes were cold and harsh. "All about how she's decided her support lies with the Dark Lord, and her and her husband think it's best if I do too... and if I choose a more proactive means to do so, they will be pleased."

His eyes were nearly burning a hole in the ceiling.

"You mean..." Hermione's whisper broke. She couldn't say it.

"Yeah. They want me to join him. If not, who knows; maybe I'll be disowned."

Her eyebrows flew into her curly hair, fear clutched at her throat, and Hermione found herself sufficiently lost for words.


	10. Chapter 10

Ahh, it's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for the wait-- after returning home I had to sort myself out and then couldn't quite find this story again right away. (But I did have a fantastic trip ;))

That being said, this chapter is for BloodyNessyZabini, for without her lovely inspiration this chapter may have never turned out. Hopefully you're still all out there ready to read more! Love it? Hate me? (You might) Review! :)

-

Hermione couldn't quite recall when she had last lost track of time so completely. NEWTs barreled over her like a herd of elephants and she was left standing on the other side, exhausted but relieved. And without studying to preoccupy her frazzled mind, there was little to stop other details from invading.

Blaise, for instance. After Hermione had gone to see him shortly after spilling the news to Harry and Ron, he hadn't said much. But the next day, five minutes before the end of breakfast, he made to leave the hall. Only, he had stopped at the Gryffindor table , offered Hermione a heart-melting grin and took her hand, escorting her from the hall.

That was all it took. Within the day there were fabrications flying through the school ranging from near truths to astonishing elaborations. Hermione suddenly found she didn't mind.

Apart from the nagging fact that Blaise was presently very well placed to become a Death Eater fresh out of school. And school was as good as done already.

Her hands felt quite tied. Her only option other than finding some way to help him from the predicament– and this thought had only flickered through her mind, before she dismissed it as blasphemy– was aborting the relationship. But she couldn't do that to Blaise. His problems wouldn't be any less, and she couldn't imagine doing that to herself, either.

As far as Blaise himself went, Hermione found that she couldn't be happier, especially now that they were no longer trying to hide the facts. Blaise was amazing.

But again, one of the thoughts that niggled at her mind the most often was that the original scheme had been plotted to keep any excessive attention of the dark side away. And here Blaise was confronted on a personal level with dark association, and Hermione felt a little like she was taunting the beast.

Blaise had sent a return letter to his mother that, though he disliked her choice, she was free to do what she wished, as was he. Technically, Blaise was a full adult wizard, capable of making his own choices. The response had been less than friendly, but Blaise didn't seem particularly worried.

Hermione, on the other hand, was more concerned. She didn't want Blaise to sacrifice his family to maintain neutrality, but the other alternative was that Blaise become a Death Eater, which she obviously wanted even less.

Once she had tried asking Blaise about Draco's stance in the war, but the Italian had just shrugged and changed the subject. Hermione figured it was because her suspicions had been correct all along and he just didn't want her to judge the blond too harshly. Not that she couldn't, though, knowing that she would probably see him in a hood and mask before too long.

The thought made her quite sad, considering she knew what sort of family Draco came from, and it really shouldn't have been all that surprising. But the truth was, since Harry had sent Draco to the hospital wing during Quidditch, she felt an odd sort of attachment to the Slytherin. Something in the neighbourhood of a friendship.

Hermione took a step out the door of the entrance hall, casually strolling to sit near the lake. She leaned back against her favourite tree, exhaling a deep breath. Things were all just going so fast, she just needed some time to relax.

-

School really needed to hurry up and finish. Blaise sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. NEWTs were already finished, what is the point in holding them there any longer? And he couldn't find his bloody quill.

Tossing everything from his bag onto the Slytherin table, Blaise dug furiously for the writing instrument. The hall was nearly empty now, everyone had finished breakfast and moved on. But he had received a letter at breakfast, and chose to respond before he could procrastinate it from his memory.

But not if he couldn't find the damn quill.

Damn it all if he couldn't calm down just a little. He had a slight suspicion he may have been steaming from the ears.

Blaise had originally thought that being seen with Hermione would make people think twice about pegging him as a Death Eater. In hindsight, the plan may have been hasty and short-sighted. Not that it had been a bad plan. The issue with it was that, though he was being seen with Hermione, he was now faced with the very real possibility of being forced into servitude.

Forget rumours when the real facts are right before you.

Ordinarily, his mother couldn't care less what Blaise did with his time, especially when it came to women. But somehow, she had been "informed" that Blaise was seeing a Muggle-born. And somehow, her husband had found out.

This was the letter Blaise was now trying to respond to. It wasn't so polite, and he didn't even want to consider showing it to Hermione, let alone telling her that he'd received it. She already worried about him enough, though he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Or so he felt the need to repeat to himself relentlessly.

He found his quill. Cursing loudly as he spilt his ink well on the table, he waved his wand to clean the mess and dropped his head to the table. Things were far too complicated these days.

Not to mention, Draco was getting on his nerves about this Death Eater business. Neutral. It was what he wanted. Everyone else needed to just back off.

Blaise scribbled a reply on the back of the letter he'd received, and took it up to the Owlery, letting a school owl take it, because he knew it would irritate his step-father even more. Then he headed to the lake.

-

Hermione stirred sharply as she heard someone take a patch of grass in her personal space. When she saw it was only Blaise she closed her eyes again, feeling the sun burn down on her face.

"Hey," she murmured, taking his hand.

"Good day," Blaise replied formally. Hermione opened her eyes and tilted her head, eyeing him curiously.

"Greetings, sir," she teased back. He allowed a half smile. "What's on your mind?"

"NEWTs," he replied, quite seriously. "I don't know what I'll do if I don't pull a transfiguration O."

"You will; you knew more than I did studying," she reminded him. "And you aren't fooling me, I know that NEWTs are the last thing on your mind right now."

The stern tone to her voice made Blaise laugh, and he suddenly swooped in, pressing his lips to hers, with more insistence than Hermione would have expected. He deepened the kiss, moving closer, trailing his hands down her back. He maneuvered Hermione to his lap, reaching one hand beneath her shirt. She shuddered at the contact on her bare skin, pulling closer to him.

Suddenly Blaise pulled back, breathing heavy.

"This is not the place," he murmured, a slight smile gracing his lips.

Hermione remained on his lap, running her fingers through his hair absently.

"It's hard to believe we're through with school," she commented, frowning. "Never to come back."

"I'm sure they'd let you come back to teach," Blaise teased, grinning. However, Hermione's eyes clouded over an she became pensive.

"That's a thought," she replied softly. Blaise laughed.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade," he suggested, "they've opened the gates for the day."

"I suppose that sounds like fun," Hermione said, standing. She tugged Blaise's hand to help him to his feet, keeping his hand in hers as they walked back towards the school.

A short distance from the gates, Hermione noticed Harry, Ron and Draco facing one another. She tensed immediately, nodding toward the scene and Blaise raised an eyebrow, leading her over.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked, sidling up next to Draco. He detached himself from Hermione, shoving his hands into his pockets. Neither Harry or Ron were fooled by his casual joining of the blond Slytherin's side.

"Nothing at all, Blaise," Draco replied, smirking. "Just a bit of conversation with my favourite Gryffindors."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, as the redhead drew out his wand. He tossed Hermione a contemptuous glare, but put his wand back away.

"We were just going to Hogsmeade, Hermione, you coming?" Harry asked, finally tearing his green eyes from Draco's grey ones.

"Oh, I...." she bit her lip, looking to Blaise. He shrugged, smiling. "Sure, I'll come."

"I'll catch up with you later," Blaise promised quietly, ignoring the identical glares thrown his way by Harry and Ron.

As Hermione turned to walk away with her friends, Blaise couldn't stop himself from pulling her back towards him, kissing her deeply, before releasing her. He could feel the heat emanating from Weasley's gaze. Hermione, flustered, waved before walking off. Draco, who was usually the first to make a snide comment every time he caught the two in a liplock, just laughed.

-

Hogsmeade with Harry and Ron had actually been a good idea. After the initial rude remarks about Hermione's choice in companions, the boys had settled down and not mentioned anything else related.

It was as if they were back in third year, enjoying an afternoon off, with the exception that Harry was actually allowed to attend Hogsmeade now. They had joked and laughed the afternoon away, shopping and relaxing. The sobering thought struck Hermione that it very well could be the last time she, Harry and Ron would do this. And so she made the most of it.

As the three finally crashed at the Three Broomsticks, laden with purchases, reality fell upon them. The truth remained that they were in the midst of a war. One which felt as if it were already at its peak, just waiting for something to break before it would completely fall upon them.

As the sun began to set, and the sky began to darken, they decided to go back to the school. But as Hermione stepped out into the main street after the boys, she was suddenly ambushed from behind by a dark-haired figure, arms wrapped around her torso. She jumped and her scream was muffled by a hand.

"Calm down," a voice murmured in her ear, the hot breath making her melt as she recognized the voice.

Spinning around in his arms, she gave Blaise a playful glare.

"You scared me," she admitted and Blaise grinned, evidently proud of himself.

"Hermione, are you coming?" Harry was standing nearby, looking irate. Ron was some distance away, red in the face, even in the dark.

"She'll catch up later," Blaise replied, not looking away from Hermione. "You had her all day, Potter..." His words trailed off and Hermione shivered, not from the cold.

"I didn't ask you, Zabini," Harry responded flatly.

"Harry, I'll be back in a bit," Hermione said, moving herself away from Blaise's intoxicating closeness. "Really, I'll be fine."

"We just care about you, Herms," Harry sighed.

"As if I don't?" Blaise scoffed, and Harry finally looked at him. "If you think I don't care about Hermione, you haven't got the slightest clue."

There was a tense pause, before Harry nodded and turned away, without another word.

"Come, I've got to show you something," Blaise murmured, pulling Hermione along behind him. He led her to a dark alleyway between two shops, through to a back lot which appeared to be under construction. There was a wire fence surrounding the lot, with ominous pictures depicting what might happen to people caught trespassing.

"Blaise, where are we–" Hermione began, but was cut off.

"Shh," he whispered, drawing his wand. "Don't want to be caught, do you?"

"This is a bad idea," she hissed, clenching Blaise's hand tighter. He tapped his wand on a particular section of the fence and it fell away. He walked through and Hermione followed, trying to determine whether or not she was crazy.

There was a small, square, non-descript building in the lot, otherwise surrounded by open field. Blaise gestured to one side of the building, which had a rope ladder up to the roof.

"You're insane," she murmured. "You go first."

Blaise grinned, shrugging, before quickly scaling to the top of the building. Gritting her teeth and gathering her nerves, Hermione went after him.

The building was taller than it looked and Hermione was shocked to see the roof overlooked most of Hogsmeade. She sat next to Blaise, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as she observed the scenery.

"This is amazing, Blaise," she said softly, and he grinned.

"So next time you'll trust me when I take you somewhere?" Hermione smiled.

"Yes, although we are still trespassing," she reminded him.

"The property belongs to a friend. He won't do anything," Blaise explained. She sighed, defeated. She laid down, resting her head on Blaise's chest as he joined her.

"This reminds me of that first night," Hermione said, closing her eyes. "Feels like such a long time ago."

"Yes," Blaise agreed, pensive. "How amused will you be if I get a better transfiguration score than my tutor?" Said tutor just laughed, reaching up to tilt Blaise's face to hers, and she pressed her lips to his.

When Blaise responded, deepening the kiss, Hermione felt her mind unravel, forgetting her worries and cares, her fears of the war. Suddenly all that mattered was that she was here, and so was he. And Hermione kissed him harder, running her hands up his back, for he was somehow above her.

Everywhere Blaise touched felt on fire, and Hermione was hardly breathing, and she knew at that moment that she would do anything for him, follow him anywhere...

"Someone out 'ere?" A voice shouted into the darkness, and Hermione felt as if a large bucket of ice water had suddenly been dumped over her. She blushed, remembering where they were.

"We'd better get going," Blaise murmured, his eyes narrowed. "We're late as it is."

"Late for what?" Hermione questioned, following as he started back down the rope ladder.

"You'll see," he called up. As Hermione stumbled off the last rung of the ladder in her haste, Blaise pulled her to him, staring into her eyes. He looked as if he were about to say something, when the voice called out again.

"Just me, Billy," he called back across the lot. He walked back toward the fence where they'd come through, and Hermione was shocked to see Billy Jenks, the barkeep of the pub she'd visited not long ago.

He looked stern, but Blaise didn't seem to be taking him very seriously.

"I told ye boys not to come out 'ere unless ye let me know first," he said to Blaise, folding his arms. "For all I know ye're a thief breaking into me brewery." He gestured at the building they'd just been on the roof of.

"Of course, next time," Blaise brushed it off. Billy turned to her, suddenly noticing that she was also there.

"And Miss Granger! 'Ow are ye, then?" Hermione almost laughed as Blaise's eyebrows flew toward his hairline in shock.

"I'm great, Billy, and you?" she asked politely, smiling.

"Just fine," the old barkeep scoffed. "So long as I can keep the scoundrels from me land." He looked pointedly at Blaise who held up his hands defensively. Hermione laughed and took one of his hands, sliding hers into it.

"Ah, ye solved yer issues then?" Billy asked knowingly, observing the pair.

"Of course," Hermione grinned up at Blaise, who was still looking confused, the cogs in his brain whirring.

"Good, good," Billy grumbled, "and I've got me bar to keep." With that he walked back through a door in the back of what Hermione now recognized to be his pub.

"How do you know Billy?" Blaise hissed, his hand tightening as he led Hermione to the front door.

"I met him a while back," Hermione said elusively. At Blaise's pointed glare, she sighed. "Oh fine, I was in the village anyway and decided to research what it was you and Draco keep giving me to drink. Quite enlightening, it was."

Blaise froze, his eyes wide. His expression was trapped between amusement and uncertainty.

"At the party, definitely wasn't my idea. I didn't even know Malfoy was going to give you any until I saw you drinking it." Hermione laughed, leaning into him.

"I know, I'm not upset. _With you_." She flicked her eyebrows, "Malfoy, on the other hand..." Blaise laughed.

"I'll have to warn him you're on the rampage. He is my best mate, after all," Blaise reasoned, walking through the doors. Hermione was shocked to see how full the bar was, mostly with Slytherins. Both times she had been here previously, it was daytime, and now it seemed almost completely different.

Almost instantly Blaise nudged Hermione to point out that Draco was at the bar, getting himself a drink.

"I'll deal with him later," she confided, as she and Blaise also walked over to get drinks. Billy refused to allow Hermione to pay, though he had no problem taking Blaise's money, still upset with him for breaking into the lot. Blaise was scandalized at the fact that Hermione, too, had been trespassing and her drink had been free.

Before Hermione realized, she was socializing and chatting with the other students – most of whom were in Slytherin. She lost track of time and realized too late they were all out past curfew.

Really, she reasoned to herself, most of the students she would have potentially had to worry about patrolling the halls were here, so there was little need to patrol anyway.

At one point in the evening, Blaise had been dragged off by some of the Slytherin girls, and Hermione had chosen to stay seated, relaxing. But it wasn't more than two minutes before the seat which had formerly been Blaise's became occupied by Malfoy.

"You haven't seen Lavender lately, have you?" he asked, appearing at her side.

"No, why?" Hermione questioned. She hadn't in fact seen Lavender all night. Draco shrugged.

"She said she might stop by," he murmured, noncommital.

"Well surely _you_ don't get concerned over whether or not a girl is around, Malfoy," Hermione teased. "This is suspicious, there must be something going on." She crouched in her seat, looking around conspicuously, attempting to discover something hidden in the Slytherin's behaviour.

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Not that it's your business, but I suppose I've bothered you and Blaise enough to tell you. We've been spending time together, that's all." Draco looked, fidgeting with a loose strand on his shirt sleeve.

"Spending time? Not shagging?" Hermione was genuinely shocked, though she was going to milk the opportunity for all it was worth; he never fidgeted. She recalled seeing Lavender leaving the hospital wing when Draco was bedridden and it suddenly made more sense. "Well, I'm proud of you, Malfoy."

"Oh, fine," he murmured, rolling his eyes. "Now you'll never let me live this down. What about you and Blaise? School's nearly over, you two have big plans?"

"Not really," she replied, biting her lip. "We've talked a little, but didn't determine much. I think Blaise is hesitant to say anything about the future when he doesn't know how even the next month will turn out."

"He said as much to me as well," Draco agreed. He shook his head. "This is all bullshit."

"Couldn't agree more." Hermione frowned, playing with a stray curl. "I'm afraid for him. He's got so much pressure on him and he's determined to deal with it all on his own."

"That's how Blaise has always been," the blond said quietly, glancing around. "When he decides he can't carry the world, he'll tell you. He might be so brave as to ask for help. I've offered, no doubt you've offered, but he won't accept any help until he hits the bottom."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Hermione whispered. "That we won't be able to help him back up, that it'll be too late." There was a tense pause. Both seemed to remember they were at a bar, lights flashing and music pumping.

"It won't be," Draco finally said, decisively. "And speaking of Blaise, I hear you've found out the key to Black Magic." He was grinning and Hermione shook her head, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Yes, what _did_ you do to me that night?" She almost wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Nothing intentionally harmful, I assure you," he breezed, eyes glinting. "It was more like a gift to Blaise."

"You didn't make me –" Hermione cut off the sentence, blushing furiously.

"He's a man, Hermione. We've got needs," Draco murmured.

"You are unbelievable," she hissed, eyes narrowed. "And you failed, by the way. Blaise knew what you were up to and stopped before... you know." She was suddenly glad for the darkness so he couldn't see how crimson her face was.

"You're kidding," he commented, leaning back in his seat. "Blaise refuses to tell me anything about you. So you two still haven't–"

Hermione shook her head anxiously.

"Wow." He exhaled a deep breath. "I'd be one irritable son-of-a-bitch by now."

"Does Blaise usually? Rather, before me and him...?" Hermione was having great difficulty stringing her sentences together.

"Do you really want to know the answer to that question?" Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at her with an odd expression.

"No," she said in a quiet voice, though her imagination instantly filled the silence with what she expected was to be the answer.

"Of course, he does fancy you quite a lot more than anyone else I've ever seen him with," the blond continued thoughtfully. Hermione felt a warmth flood her being at his words.

Suddenly Draco winced, instinctively grabbing at his left forearm.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked with mild curiosity. He hastily let go of his arm. Hermione paused, and the warmth that had filled her only moments before turned to ice.

"Just fine," he muttered, looking away from her.

Hermione furrowed her brow, grabbed the Slytherin's arm and yanked up his sleeve. She saw only a corner of the mark, before releasing his arm, recoiling as if she'd been burnt. He roughly pulled his sleeve back down, glaring at her.

"What is that vile mark doing on your arm, Malfoy?" she asked quietly, attempting to keep her voice even.

"Not your business," he murmured. He met her gaze, then, and there was something in it, pleading, confused, but she tore her eyes from his.

"Like hell you aren't. You know, I had honestly believed there was something different in you," she hissed, running from him before the hot tears could spill from her eyes. Her brain was whirring out of control, she wanted to scream, punch something, she didn't know what she wanted–

"Where are you going?" Blaise jumped in front of her as she made a beeline to the door, grabbing her by the arms.

"I don't know," she muttered, attempting to pull away from him. She pawed angrily at the tears spilling over her cheeks.

"What happened?" When he received no answer, he bent to look into her eyes. "Talk to me."

"Okay, tell me why Malfoy's got that bloody awful snake on his arm," she hissed, angrily. Blaise's grip loosened and he blinked.

"I can't." He looked defeated. Hermione laughed, once, deliriously.

"Great, I'll just be off then, shall I?" She ripped away from Blaise, storming out of the bar. He was closely after her.

"Hermione, you can't tell anyone," he whispered urgently. "I'll tell you someday, I promise."

She looked at him, his soft brown eyes, and all she could do was shake her head. She left back to the school, and supposed Blaise knew better than to try to stop her, because he didn't follow.


	11. Chapter 11

Here it is, kids! Just one more chapter after this, and I think it'll probably be more of an epilogue. But we'll see. Sorry this took so long to be written, last week we hosted the Canadian Open Championships at work, and they kept me quite busy, and this week I've been busy working on an essay about pedestrian precincts and integration with modern transportation. Fun stuff. Also, it's my birthday on sunday, so I've been preparing for that as well. Anyway, here's chapter 11! I know the end feels a little like an end, but it's not the end... yet. Please review!

Oh, and I have finally started writing the final chapter of Catalyst, that should be up soon, and I'm planning another big DM/HG fic, which I've already begun writing, but I am contemplating finding a beta. Read my profile for details if anyone's interested. :)

Sorry, here it is! (Love reviews!)

-

Hermione was frustrated. For the last few days, Blaise had been stubbornly refusing to tell her anything about Malfoy. She had _seen_ the bloody mark with her own eyes, there was no denying its existence any longer, and still Blaise wouldn't speak of it.

Her irritability was compounded by the fact that she hated being upset with Blaise. They were due to leave Hogwarts forever the next day, and she most certainly did not want to part on bad terms, as she didn't particularly know how long it would be until she saw him again.

It was this part that made her more than irritable. It made her sad, anxious, hurt. She could scarcely imagine life without the quirky Italian.

That is, when he wasn't intent on deliberately keeping her in the dark.

Malfoy, she had been avoiding entirely. Though he had tried once, approaching her with wild eyes, she had simply ignored him and walked away. A part of her still couldn't believe that after all she had witnessed of him this year, he was an official Death Eater.

She hadn't wanted to reveal the fact to Harry and Ron, who she knew would take it much worse than even she, and so had kept it bottled within herself.

"Hermione!" She turned at the sound of her voice, stomach jumping to see Blaise hurrying toward her, his hair in every direction, his eyes bloodshot.

"Yes?" she asked, rather curtly.

"Please don't be like this," he murmured, lifting a hand to her face. "You know if I could, I would explain everything to you. It's not my story to share."

"I know," she sighed. Finally relenting, she took Blaise's hand in hers. "What did you need?"

"There have been some... developments. You might want to sit." Hermione suddenly noticed an odd look in Blaise's eyes. If she didn't know any better she'd call it fear. She led Blaise to a nearby classroom, sitting on a table while waiting for him to speak. He paced, as if trying to determine the best way to begin.

"Well, here," he murmured, drawing two sheets of parchment from his pocket. "Read this one first. Received it at breakfast."

It was from Blaise's mother. Hermione faintly recognized the elegant cursive.

_Blaise,_

_I have owled Lucius Malfoy. He has arranged for you to be given your Mark one week following your return from Hogwarts. Draco will know the specifics. _

It wasn't signed. Cold and formal. As Hermione had come to associate with Blaise's family.

"We expected something along those lines, didn't we?" she murmured, trying to discount her concern for Blaise through the fact that this alone wouldn't have him looking like a paranoid insomniac.

"Yes," Blaise commented. He sighed. "This is what my mother didn't know. It's from Draco." At Hermione's look of hesitation and disgust, he frowned. "_Read it_. Trust me."

_Granger,_

_There has long been talk of an attack on the horizon. The Dark Lord has decided that it will be tonight, at Hogwarts. A select few alone were told in advance to prevent the likelihood of a leak. However, he does not know that the Order has already been informed. Outside methods of transportation and communication are being cut off as you read this; it will be unwise to attempt to run. Do what you can, so that one day I might tell you the truth. Granger, long ago I told you things are not as black and white as you suspect. Trust to believe that._

_Draco_

Hermione didn't realize her hands were shaking until she looked up from the letter.

"This is real, then?" she questioned, softly. Blaise nodded quickly, as if afraid Dark forces would storm in at any moment. "And the Order know already? Who told them?"

"No clue," Blaise muttered, stepping toward Hermione. "But they're arriving already, getting through the barriers. I saw a few while I was looking for you."

Hermione bit her lip, meeting Blaise's dark eyes.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, softly. Blaise laughed, rather coldly. Hermione was taken aback.

"Well, seeing as my _initiation_," the word was said mockingly, "isn't for a week, I have no need to pretend as if I sympathize with the Death Eaters."

"Blaise, the Order..." she trailed off at his expression.

"I don't need protection, nor do I want it," he stated shortly.

"Blaise, this isn't about your pride! You can't just _leave_. You'll be forced into battle, we all will. I want to know you won't be a target to both sides!" Hermione was suddenly feeling the shock that had been threatening her since she'd read Malfoy's letter, her eyes welling with hot tears. Blaise said nothing, pointedly ignoring her gaze.

"You simply cannot be neutral, Blaise," Hermione continued, desperation tinging her voice now. "If you refuse to fight with the Order, and–" She choked, unable to imagine him fighting for the other side. "Maybe at one time neutrality was an option, but–"

"Hermione," Blaise cut her off sharply. "Do you think I don't know this?"

"I... suppose," she said, flatly.

"I haven't slept properly in weeks," Blaise murmured, "because I know that. And yet I did everything I could think of to avoid having to admit it to myself. The pressure from both sides has been at me more than I ever wanted, and I've been driven _up the wall_ but there's nothing for it."

"Blaise," Hermione murmured, biting her lip. He collapsed onto the table next to her, taking her hand, his expression lost. He looked broken. She knew this was what Draco had been talking about, at the pub that night, before everything had fallen apart. When he had said Blaise was about to crash..

"Hermione," Blaise cast back, offering her a wry smile. "I have put so much thought into this, and do you want to know the only damn thing that keeps coming to mind?"

"Sure," she replied, in a suddenly small voice.

"You." Blaise frowned slightly, observing her. He gave her hand a squeeze. Hermione's heart jolted, speeding up as she met his eyes.

"Just me?" she questioned, feeling odd.

"I'm going to fight with you," Blaise stated, stronger. "Because that's what my heart says to do."

"And your brain?" she asked, hesitant to hear the response.

"For the most part, agrees."

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what to think. Blaise had adamantly refused to join her side, and she knew he didn't want to be a Death Eater. A part of her had always assumed that, if forced to choose, it would be easier for him to follow his house to battle.

"What about Malfoy?" Hermione questioned. She suddenly felt a wave of pity for the blond whose best mate was sitting with her, declaring his allegiance to her rather than him. His written words echoed in her head. _Things_ _are not as black and white as you suspect..._

"Draco knows," Blaise murmured. "Merlin, I wish I could explain it all to you." Hermione swallowed deeply, looking over at him.

"I understand," she commented. Though she didn't like it.

Blaise stood once more, tugging her up with him.

"Come," he murmured, and they left the room, Hermione curiously trailing along. "It feels weird knowing what's coming in a couple hours' time. You should probably get to your house."

"Probably," Hermione replied, though her grip on Blaise tightened and she walked closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her waist.

Blaise led her to Gryffindor Tower, but stopped one hallway away, turning to Hermione.

"I've got to get down to Slytherin for a bit," he murmured, his eyes narrowed slightly. It made Hermione feel as if he were looking through her. He ran a hand through his hair, resting it on her back, pulling her close to him.

"Well, look," he murmured, and Hermione realized with a start that he was nervous. "I imagine this is probably the least opportune and romantic way to say this." Hermione's eyes widened; she forgot to breathe. "These past months, with you... they've been amazing. I can't help this feeling that if I don't say this now, I may not get the chance, and... ah, fuck it." He looked her square in the eyes now. "I'm in love with you, Hermione."

Hermione froze, temporarily speechless. Then his words hit her, and she grinned, throwing her arms around his neck.

"I love you too, Blaise," she whispered into his ear. Hearing the words from her own lips made her feel incredibly light. After an extended period, she pulled away, looking at him sternly. "Although you _really _shouldn't speak like that. I know I for one plan on making it through this. And you had better be there with me."

Blaise rolled his eyes, muttered "you're crazy," and kissed her. And just for the moment, Hermione forgot about the terrors of the war that were knocking at the door. All too soon she found herself facing Gryffindor Tower.

The next hours passed by in a blur of frantic preparations, and Hermione didn't have time to feel an onslaught of fear before she found herself in the Great Hall, surrounded by students, Order members and professors. How the Order had been informed, Hermione still wasn't sure. But she would never presume to know all of their secrets, anyway. What really mattered was that they knew. And that they were afforded with no less than a fighting chance.

-

Hermione was stalking a Death Eater. It probably wasn't the wisest thing she'd ever done, but hell, she had a feeling about this. She had lost track of Harry and Ron somewhere in the castle, and hadn't seen Blaise in a long time. One side of her had wanted to panic; then she had seen a solo Death Eater skirt through the battle, and had been intrigued. Curiosity won over panic, and there she was.

The majority of the Death Eaters hadn't yet breached the castle. Most of the battle was going on in the grounds. Hermione knew she was likely to lose her mind at the sight of friends, familiar students, professors, who may never stand again. She was fighting with every fibre to retain her sanity. Hermione had always found the best way to do that was the keep herself occupied.

This Death Eater was headed to the kitchens. She disillusioned herself quickly, sneaking in behind. It wasn't until she was closer, looking harder, that she noticed he was limping. He collapsed into a seat, cursing, but the voice was muffled through his mask.

He stretched a leg, moving the robes out of the way, and Hermione gasped softly. It was clearly broken, twisted and awkward looking.

"Who's there?" he snapped, having heard Hermione gasp. She froze, as he drew a wand. Gripping her own tightly, prepared to stun him, she jerked around at the sudden arrival of another presence.

"Relax, cuz," came an oddly cheerful voice Hermione recognized. "Just me." The Death Eater visibly relaxed.

Hermione's eyes widened as Tonks came into her line of sight, taking a seat next to the wounded Death Eater. She took a look at his broken leg and let out a low whistle.

"That can't feel good," she murmured, pulling out her wand. "Take off that damn mask, I hate seeing you like that, kid."

This time when Hermione failed to hold back a reaction, Tonks looked around suspiciously. The unmistakable shock of blond hair had thrown her off. And then Hermione was suddenly reminded that Narcissa and Tonks' mother Andromeda had been sisters. But what was Draco doing speaking with Tonks while the rest of the Death Eaters were out fighting?

Tonks had begun tapping at the bones in Draco's leg, as he winced slightly at the pain.

"Lucius?" she questioned, after a period of time. Draco grunted in response.

"Must've found out I told you about the attack," he murmured finally. "I was lucky to get away with any leg at all." He snorted. Tonks laughed faintly, continuing with her work.

"Regardless," Tonks said breezily, "I can't say how much we appreciated the heads up. Imagine, a full Death Eater onslaught against kids seventeen and under, with just a handful of professors." She was shaking her head in disgust at the thought.

"I said I'd let you know everything, didn't I?" Draco was smirking, despite the obvious pain he was in.

Hermione realized she was shaking quite a while after she'd began. Draco was a spy for the Order! She felt a sudden swell of relief in her heart; he wasn't so evil after all.

It hit Hermione some time later that she wouldn't be able to leave the kitchens until the pair of them did as well, unless she wanted to simply reveal that she'd been there the entire time. She somehow doubted Draco would take it that well.

"There," Tonks said finally. "It won't feel like if I was a Healer, but it'll do for now." Draco stood up, placing pressure on his previously wounded leg, and grinned.

"It's perfectly fine," he replied. Grimacing, he reached for his hood and mask.

"Come on," Tonks scoffed. "Don't go back out there with them."

"You know I'll be killed on the spot if I don't and one of them finds me," Draco murmured, eyes narrowed. "He's got to know it was me by now, there were only a few of us that knew the plan."

"More reason not to go out there," Tonks tossed back at him, looking very much like a reprimanding parent.

"Ah, Dora, but the best way to hide is to be in their midst." He winked as Tonks shook her head in disbelief.

"At least keep yourself safe so I can buy you a damn Firewhisky later," she muttered angrily as the blond put his mask and hood back over his distinctive hair and left the kitchens. Tonks followed shortly after. Finally Hermione exhaled, processing what she'd witnessed.

Then she went looking for Blaise.

-

Her search didn't turn up successful until some hours later, as the battle wound down. All around her people were exhausted, injured, grieving, but for the most part there was a surrounding feeling of victory.

Because Harry had defeated _him_, of course. Hermione had always believed he would; the only alternative was to abandon hope.

After she had caught up with Harry and Ron, both looking like they could use a good nights' rest, she bit her lip.

"Have either of you... have you seen Blaise?" Her eyes were wide; all evening her search had proved futile. She was starting to worry.

Harry and Ron shared a look, Harry's brows raised, Ron's face turning red. Hermione's heart plummeted through her stomach.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked, voice oddly high pitched.

"We saw Wood and Charlie taking him to the hospital wing," Harry said softly. "He... wasn't conscious."

"But was he–" she swallowed, unable to finish the thought.

"Oh, alive, yes," Harry said quickly. He shared another odd look with Ron.

"We think," Ron said. At Hermione's sudden green expression, her horrified eyes, Ron quickly added, "looked like he was breathing."

Hermione stared at them both for a moment, took a deep breath and left toward the hospital wing. She had a strong urge to be sick as she saw the rows of students lying on cots, some noticeably bleeding or injured, others who just looked to be sleeping. They unnerved her the most.

Before she could lose her nerve, Hermione hurried on, locating Madam Pomfrey.

"Where is Blaise Zabini?" she asked rather quickly, too anxious to bother with politeness. The nurse observed her for a moment, before sighing.

"He is in _no_ fit shape for visitors. But I will let you see him for a moment." She turned and briskly walked in the other direction, Hermione following closely behind, terrified at what she might find.

Finally she saw him. He could've been sleeping, his brow slightly furrowed, but looking otherwise healthy. Hermione leaned close, running her hands lightly through his hair, pressing her lips to his forehead.

"What happened?" she asked, surprised to find she could speak in no louder than a whisper.

"The two young men who brought him in said they had come across him fighting three Death Eaters after the battle had already ended. They were... punishing him for betrayal." The nurse shook her head angrily.

"You mean, _Crucio_?" Her voice broke, and Madam Pomfrey nodded, frowning. "But he wasn't a Death Eater! Well, not formally at least." Her enthusiasm died out at the thought. The Death Eaters would have considered that betrayal either way.

"It's too soon to tell, at this point, what sort of long-term damage the curse may cause him, if any. I suppose we just need to be thankful he was found, before..." The nurse trailed off but Hermione knew perfectly well what she had meant to say. Before they killed him.

Hermione suddenly felt her eyes tearing up, feeling horribly claustrophobic in the hospital, surrounded by injured students. And Blaise. Voldemort was finally gone, she was supposed to be able to celebrate, and yet... she couldn't.

"How long will he be unconscious?" she choked out. Madam Pomfrey seemed too distraught to bother with making her leave, as she bustled over to another patient.

"It's difficult to say," the nurse murmured distractedly, "but it would probably be safe to attempt to wake him in an hour or so. Will you pass me that beaker, dear." Hermione blinked, slightly stunned, before handing Madam Pomfrey a beaker full of sky-blue liquid.

"Well, could you use a hand?" she asked, quietly. "I don't have much experience with healing, but there are quite a lot of students here." She wasn't sure why she had offered, but couldn't stand the thought of Blaise waking up alone.

"I think I could," the nurse said quietly. She set Hermione to work immediately, and Hermione did whatever task was asked of her, for fear that if she stopped working it would sink in who these patients were, and how she knew quite a few of them personally, and by helping them it made everything seem so much more hopeful...

Finally Pomfrey sighed, some time later, wiping her brow.

"They've all been taken care of for the immediate present," she proclaimed. Their work had increased significantly as more injured were still being brought in. To Hermione it had felt good to get her hands dirty and help out the woman who would otherwise have been frazzled and overwhelmed.

A few of them had even been awake and able to speak to Hermione. She smiled despite herself as Neville regaled his heroic battles while she bandaged his arm and shoulder.

Then the distraction she'd entertained for so long was gone, and all she could think of was Blaise. Pomfrey bustled to a cabinet and drew out a thin vial of black liquid. Without words she walked to Blaise's bedside and Hermione followed apprehensively.

"Don't be too alarmed if this doesn't work right away," she warned and Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip rather hard. She muttered a spell and poured the contents down his throat, before setting her wand down and crossing her hands. She stared down, and Hermione looked also, frantically.

It might have been two minutes, or it might have been twenty, for all Hermione could tell, but finally Blaise's eyes snapped open, falling unfocused on Hermione. After a moment his vision seemed to clear and he finally noticed she was there. He gave her a crooked grin, a murmured "hey" and Hermione came undone, throwing her arms around him, ignoring the wild protests of the nurse.

"Bit painful," Blaise managed in her ear and Hermione pulled back, horrified.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, covering her mouth.

"Don't be," he replied, grimacing slightly. "I'm glad to see you too." Pomfrey gently urged her aside, forcing another potion down Blaise's throat, for the pain and sore muscles.

After several minutes, Blaise was well enough to scoff at the fact that he was wearing hospital robes. Hermione had half-laughed, half-cried at his exclamation, but didn't dare touch him again until he was feeling better.

She sat down in the chair next to his bed, and finally Pomfrey went off to check on other patients, and Blaise turned to her with a serious look.

"Did you see Draco?" he asked, frowning.

"Not for hours," she admitted. "Did you?"

"No," Blaise shook his head. "Saw his father, though." At the dark expression on his face, Hermione gasped.

"Did he do this to you?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice low.

"And Dolohov, and Nott," he muttered. Seeing Hermione on the verge of tears, he grinned. "It wasn't pleasant, but I'm fine." He reached up to stroke her face, wiping away the tears that had formed. She sighed.

"I'm so glad. I've been so worried," she whispered. "Do you want me to go find Draco?" Blaise shrugged.

"Not just yet," he murmured, watching as Pomfrey hurried about. "I'm afraid of being alone with her." Hermione laughed, but then he sobered. "Look, I guess now that it's over, I can tell you... Draco isn't really–"

"I know," Hermione cut him off. "I saw him talking to Tonks."

"I wanted you to know the truth, but he refused to let anyone else know. The rest of the bloody _Order_ didn't even know he was the one giving her information on the Death Eaters." Blaise shook his head. "He figured if you knew you'd tell Potter and Weasley, and then somehow word would get to the Death Eaters that he was playing spy."

"I figured as much," she smiled wryly. "I understand."

With significant effort, Blaise lifted himself up to rest on his elbows, then he leaned forward and pulled Hermione to him for a kiss. Just then the doors slammed open and Hermione tore herself away, looking to the commotion. Madam Pomfrey rounded on the intruders, but then Harry and Ron came around the corner, grinning at spotting her.

"Hermione, have you been here this whole time?" Ron asked, before noticing the irritated look Blaise was giving him. "Er, Zabini." The Slytherin nodded in response, then turned to look at Harry with a calculating gaze.

"Good fighting out there, Potter," he murmured. Harry blinked, taken aback.

"Thanks, it's good to see you're alright," he said back. Hermione beamed at them both.

"Oh Hermione, guess what," Harry suddenly said, grinning. "We've managed to round up all but a few Death Eaters. A couple escaped but we'll track them down." Hermione's eyes brightened at the news. Then she suddenly froze, looking at Blaise, who was frowning.

"What about Malfoy?" she asked, quietly. The grin slid from Harry's face.

"He was in the mask and everything, Herms," he muttered, looking uneasy. "I know you and him were okay there for a bit, but he's still a Death Eater."

"He isn't," she countered immediately. "Where is he?"

"We're not sure," Ron broke in while Harry looked confused. "Might've taken him to the Ministry, or might've gone straight to Azkaban." Hermione watched as the colour drained from Blaise's face.

"He was feeding information to your side," Blaise hissed, suddenly wincing as he fell back. Hermione stabilized him and offered him another dose of the pain killing potion.

"He– he was?" Harry questioned, hesitating.

"Yes, even ask Tonks," Hermione added.

"Tonks has been taken to St. Mungo's," he informed them and Hermione's eyes shot open wide. "She's going to be fine, we just figured this place had to be full enough."

"Well, when is the trial?" Blaise asked, looking anxious.

"There were a lot of Death Eaters left, mate," Ron informed him grimly. "There's talk of not giving trials to the ones who don't have a shot anyway."

"That's outrageous!" Hermione shouted, blushing as Pomfrey shushed her, lowering her voice. "Draco most certainly has a shot at being let off. He's seventeen, for Merlin's sake!"

"His father made his name a lot of enemies, Hermione," Harry said quietly. Hermione fell silent, shaking her head. She exchanged a grim look with Blaise. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Time to go," Madam Pomfrey said sternly as she rounded on the group. Ignoring their complaints, she shooed them off, giving a sharp nod of thanks to Hermione.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she muttered to Blaise, before he tugged her in for a real kiss, and Hermione trailed reluctantly after Harry and Ron. Out in the hallway, however, she was suddenly eager to hear all about what had happened to them during the long, eventful day. The three were up late, finally succumbing to deep sleep in front of the fire in Gryffindor Tower, not even bothering to change.

-

It was finally time to go. The train had been delayed a few days for various memorial services, and to allow the injured time to recover before sending them home.

Draco hadn't returned, and Blaise had been rather subdued from that night to the time when they were to depart. Hermione hated to think of Draco in a cell in Azkaban, especially after he had risked everything to warn them of the attack. She had asked McGonagall, however, and determined that Draco had received his NEWTs in every subject, regardless.

She was determined to secure him a trial, and when he got out, he would undoubtedly be glad to learn he had at least finished his education. Or so Hermione assumed. How she was going to secure him a trial, she wasn't sure yet.

Blaise suddenly came up behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her forehead.

"Hello," he murmured as Hermione sunk back into his warmth, smiling.

"Are you all set?" she asked, and Blaise laughed, smirking.

"I've been ready to leave this place since I set down my quill after that last NEWT." Hermione turned to see his face, staring him down.

"You honestly aren't going to miss it?" she sighed, giving the castle a wistful look.

"Sure I'll miss it," he brushed it off, grinning, "but think how much there is still to see."

Hermione smiled absently, thinking over his words. Since the war Blaise had changed, as far as she could see, though it had only been a few days. Whereas before he had been determined to avoid speaking of the future, he had already sent out several owls about jobs, one in particular to the very job he had needed his transfiguration NEWT for, about which Draco had enlisted her aid.

And he had begun to plan out his summer, and Hermione wasn't sure how he was going to be quite so busy traveling while working, provided one of his applications worked out.

But on the other side, a part of Blaise had changed that day. She had spent the last two nights with him before leaving, and while he had previously slept like a rock, the case was no longer so. She could feel him tossing in the night, his grip on her tighter than usual. It bothered her, but there was only so much she could do. He wasn't ready to speak about it, so she wasn't ready to force him to.

And she hadn't quite decided what was next for her. She wasn't in any huge hurry. But some part of her had really enjoyed helping out in the hospital wing, and she vowed to look into Healing.

"Come on," Blaise was saying, pulling her away from the school. She hadn't even noticed the carriages pull up. "One of these days you'll get so lost in your thoughts I won't be able to find you," Blaise teased. She grinned back.

"You know me," she said apologetically, climbing into the nearest carriage.

"That I do," he replied. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, letting her eyes slip shut. When they got to Hogsmeade station, Hermione saluted the distant castle while Blaise laughed at her.

Then she dragged him toward the Heads' Compartment and attacked him.

-

Some time later there was a soft knock on the door. Hermione stood to open it, and was surprised to see Harry standing there, peering in.

"Potter," Blaise said in greeting as Hermione took a seat next to him again.

"Hey Zabini," he murmured, turning to Hermione. "I wanted to show you this. I'm about to send it off with Pig."

He handed her a sheet of parchment, and as Hermione read, her eyes widened in disbelief. It was a letter to Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, calling in a personal favour from Harry Potter that Draco Malfoy be granted a fair and proper trial.

She looked into Harry's green eyes as Blaise glanced over the letter, looking rather shocked as well.

"Thank you," she murmured genuinely. "I'm sure that wasn't easy."

"Potter, that's..." Blaise trailed off, at a loss for words, but Harry understood. He nodded sharply and Blaise grinned.

"I told Ron and Ginny I'd be right back. Just thought you two ought to know," he forced a smile and left again, with a "see you at the station."

Hermione sighed, settling back into Blaise's arms, finally feeling as if things might start being okay sooner rather than later.

Then before she knew it, they were back in London, and Hermione, hand in Blaise's, suddenly breathed the air, and it felt a little different than it always had.


	12. Chapter 12

Hello there...

I think it has been close to six months since any signs of life around this story. But this is it, the end. To any new readers, or any old ones out there who may still be around, read, review, and the like. I'm excited for this to come to a close.

I have to say that this probably would never have been finished if it hadn't been for my lovely, wonderful friend Sil, for her kind words of inspiration. I offer you the gift of Blaise. ;)

Please enjoy. :)

* * *

"Hermione, you have _got_ to calm down," Blaise murmured, shaking his head. The ex-Gryffindor shot him a harsh look.

"I can't, Blaise, and quite frankly, I don't know how you are so calm either," she retorted. Flipped furiously through some pages of notes spread across the kitchen table of Blaise's new flat.

"I'm worked up over it, too, but I don't see what more we can do. The trial's tomorrow," he reasoned, leaning forward.

Hermione sighed, organizing her papers, and walked over to sit with Blaise.

"You're right, his lawyer's got almost everything worked out already. I'm just worried something will go wrong." She leaned her head against Blaise's shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her.

Draco was to be tried for Death Eater activity the next day, and while there was not much denying the fact, the defense's angle was to counter the negative with positive in how he had given information to the Order regarding the Death Eater attack at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, Tonks was still in St. Mungo's recovering from a severe attack, and she was the one with undisputable proof that Draco had been acting as an agent for the Order. The rest of the Order had been clueless, and many refused to believe he had been the Death Eaters' leak.

The prosecutor had eyewitnesses seeing him in Death Eater clothing, a number of other Death Eaters had spoken of his involvement in their trials, and even though Harry's letter had done the trick to secure Draco a trial, both Hermione and Blaise doubted it would be considered entirely fair.

They had visited him in Azkaban twice after school had ended, the second time only three days earlier. The difference in his demeanor and appearance were shocking.

Azkaban, though no longer guarded by Dementors, was still no picnic. In fact, Hermione couldn't imagine it to be worse. Since the removal of the Dementors, more prisoners had gone mad than had with the soul-feasting guards.

He had begun to lose hope, though he had denied having ever had hope to begin with. Even when Hermione had told him what had been developed on his case. She hadn't yet told him that she had witnessed his conversation with Tonks, and hoped the trial would go well without it. Of course, if necessary, she would speak.

Hermione had owled Lavender, as a favour to the overworked lawyer Narcissa Malfoy had paid a large sum of galleons for, requesting she testify at Draco's trial as a character witness, and she had readily agreed. Hermione had hoped she would, after what Draco had told her about their recent companionship the night she had first seen his Mark.

Beyond that, they had left most of the work to the lawyer, though Blaise had been forced to pull Hermione away on more than one occasion.

"Are you staying here tonight?" Blaise asked softly after a pause, breaking the silence.

"I think so, my parents are at a convention, tonight and tomorrow night." Hermione snuck a sideways look at Blaise. His expression gave nothing away.

"Good. You might as well get some sleep, tomorrow will be a big day," he murmured, making to stand up. Hesitantly, she followed. She found her pyjamas which were technically Blaise's, changed and prepared herself for sleep.

But when she found herself in Blaise's bed, his arms around her and bare chest to her back, Hermione found herself wide awake. Her body was singing with awareness of the contact, and she found herself thinking about the reason why.

For a while she had been dwelling on Draco's words about Blaise's needs, and had spent a long time thinking that he was bound to act on those needs. But he never had, at least not with her. She was starting to think that maybe he didn't want to force her into anything. She didn't think she would have minded, really.

But as it was, she didn't know how best to bring it up, and feared making the first move in case he turned her away. Knowing herself, she would probably make it awkward _somehow_.

It wasn't like Blaise never kissed her, but he would always stop himself before anything else happened. And recently Hermione had been thinking about the way he had made her feel the night of Draco's party. That, if nothing else, was enough to make her want to progress with the relationship.

But she did want to have sex with him, for other reasons. He was amazing and treated her like gold. And she loved him.

Feeling a sudden surge of courage, Hermione rolled in Blaise's arms, finding herself looking at his sleeping face. She watched him for a moment, a faint smile coming across her lips. Then she entwined a hand in his hair and pressed her lips to his.

He awoke abruptly and pulled away, blinking wildly. Then his eyes came into focus and he saw her looking sheepish and grinned.

"What are you doing still awake?" he asked, voice thick with sleep.

"Thinking about you," Hermione admitted, flushing light pink.

"Ah. Well I was _dreaming_ about you, but the real thing is always better," he replied, before leaning in to kiss her.

The action had Hermione's body rearing to life once more, and she pulled herself to him, kissing back with intensity and fervour.

Blaise pulled away, eyebrows raised, smirking at her.

"What's up with you? Am I going off to a war I didn't know about?" he smiled but Hermione bit her lip uncertainly.

"Oh, I just thought that maybe, you'd want to... you know," she trailed off, unable to meet his gaze. She could feel her face burning.

Blaise's eyebrows shot up again and he froze, staring slack-jawed at her, before pulling himself together.

"What, _now_?" He questioned, rubbing one of his eyes.

"We don't have to," Hermione quickly said, backpedaling. "It doesn't even matter."

Blaise sighed, staring at her a moment longer before he looked away.

"Hermione," he murmured, running a hand down her side, lingering at her hip. Her flesh tingled. "We have to be up in five hours."

Her heart plummeted and her stomach tossed in shame.

"I know," she whispered, rolling back over so he couldn't see her face. "Forget I mentioned it." Her whole being stung with rejection.

"I love you," Blaise whispered into her ear, tightening his arms around her again. Hermione could only nod, tears biting at her eyes, wondering how his words and actions could be so completely contradictory.

She finally succumbed to a rough sleep, long after she'd heard Blaise's breathing fall back to a rhythmic pattern once more.

-

The trial was going less smoothly than they had hoped. The opposing side was at least as prepared, if not more than theirs was. Draco had sat silently and dispassionately throughout the entire thing, not even acknowledging Hermione's attempt at a wave early on.

She thought he looked more pale than ever, and rather as if he were about to vomit. She was now wringing her hands nervously, watching Blaise give testimony under a small dosage of Veritaserum.

"And you claim you knew that Mr. Malfoy was no longer loyal to the Death Eater cause? How long had this been so?" The prosecutor, a young blonde woman by the name of Natalia Ricardo, was asking, looking down at Blaise with narrowed eyes.

"I believe that Draco never truly was loyal from before the time he was given the Dark Mark," Blaise responded easily, "though I think the first time he passed information to his cousin was around January or early February."

"And his cousin would be Nymphadora Tonks, is this correct?" the woman asked, staring curiously at Blaise.

"That is correct," he responded, leaning back in his seat.

"And what, if any, of this information was even remotely useful?" Ricardo questioned.

"I cannot say with certainty that it was all of value, as Draco did not reveal what he informed her of. However, I do know that on the day of the final battle, Draco fed her information that allowed the entirety of the Order of the Phoenix to be present at Hogwarts before outside communications were lost, greatly contributing to the success of the light side over the dark." Blaise met her eyes defiantly.

"Mhm," Ricardo said absently. "And you were a member of Slytherin House at Hogwarts with Mr. Malfoy, were you not?"

"Yes, I was," Blaise said through clenched teeth. Hermione froze, recognizing what was coming.

"And how long have you known the defendant?" Ricardo drilled on.

"We have been best mates since we were three," Blaise responded, head held high. Hermione saw him shoot a look toward Draco. From her position in the seats, she could see the blond clenching a tight fist.

"So it would probably be safe to say that you would do or say anything for him," Ricardo commented.

"Objection!" Draco's lawyer cried furiously, jumping to his feet. "I order that last statement be stricken."

"Sustained," murmured the head of the Wizengamot, presiding over the trial.

"No further questions," Natalia Ricardo stated, smiling demurely at Blaise as he walked back to his seat. Then they took a break.

As Blaise walked to Hermione and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she could have sworn Ricardo's eyes flickered over in interest. The blonde woman shot her a dark look before turning back to her team.

As they walked out of the room for some air, the defense lawyer caught up with them, and Hermione noticed Draco a short distance back, head up, chained by an invisible tether to keep him within a certain distance of the room. She didn't think she was imagining the people skirting widely around him as they walked past.

The lawyer was a dark-haired, middle-aged man by the name of Sebastian Langerak, well known for his ability to nail a case. Not to mention his smile.

"Hermione, I may need to use you," he murmured quietly so no one else could hear. "I know I said I probably wouldn't, but you've seen Ricardo. The jury are much more inclined to hate the name of Malfoy than to trust it."

"That will be fine," Hermione replied, swallowing heavily.

"Thanks, Granger," Langerak muttered, turning on his heel and walking back toward Draco, instantly speaking rapidly in a hushed tone.

As the break came to an end, Hermione felt nerves taking over her mind and heart.

"You'll be fine," Blaise said, leaning in to speak close to her ear. Then he kissed her, reaching to pull her closer, but was interrupted as Ricardo walked by, crashing rather hard into Hermione and knocking her off balance.

"Oh, sorry," she called over her shoulder. Hermione raised an eyebrow, wanting to laugh were she not so rattled.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione called back, kissing Blaise deeply again. He gave her a confused look as she drew back, but she just shook her head, taking her seat once more as the trial began back up.

Things continued to go downhill, and Hermione could see Langerak become stressed as the witnesses began turning the jury further from Draco's side. Finally he spun around and locked eyes with her. She swallowed, reached into a pocket for reassurance. Then Langerak called her to the witness stand.

She drank the required vial of Veritaserum, waited a moment, then took a seat. Obediently she answered all of Langerak's questions, before finally he asked for what she still held in her left hand. She handed him the small bottle, and he extracted it, placing it under a charm that would allow the entire room to see the memory she had withdrawn, just in case.

And then she watched, along with the rest of the room, the scene she had witnessed down in the kitchens the night of the battle. It was exactly as she remembered it. For the first time, Draco looked at her, his expression incredulous, his eyes with a dull sparkle that hadn't been there earlier.

As the memory ended, and she clarified some details for Langerak and the room, the jury began to converse among themselves.

Ricardo wasn't able to push her far into the dirt, as Hermione had never exactly been friends with Malfoy until after he was no longer a Death Eater at heart, and had no greater motivation to defend him than the truth.

A concrete memory was a strong thing at the point in the trial, and though Tonks was unable to attend the trial, she had written a short note during a rare period of lucidity explaining the same things which the memory had shown.

Eventually the trial was over, well into the evening. Hermione had wanted to stay and wait for the verdict, but Blaise assured her it could take a long time, and Draco wouldn't be able to see them anyway. So they went back to Blaise's flat, anxious but feeling that the second half of the trial had gone better than the first.

It was nearly eleven when Langerak's owl flew into the flat, and both Hermione and Blaise froze, before finally Blaise walked over and took the sheet of parchment clenched in its talons. He read the parchment, glanced at the floor, then handed it to Hermione. Her heart jolted in terror as she looked down.

_Acquitted – All Charges. _

_Can't thank you two enough._

_-S.L._

Then her heart began again in earnest. Blaise grabbed her hand and apparated them both to the Ministry, where they were just in time to see Draco walk free for the first time in weeks.

He saw the pair of them, muttered a few words to Langerak, who looked over and nodded. Draco was shaking his head in disbelief as he grabbed Blaise into an embrace – one of the first real expressions of emotion Hermione had ever seen him exhibit. Then he turned to Hermione.

"Granger," he murmured, shooting her a sideways grin. Suddenly she burst into tears, throwing her arms around his neck. Hesitantly he placed his arms around her back, rolling his eyes conspiratorially at Blaise, who laughed. Then he leaned closer and Hermione could feel his breath.

"I don't know what the hell you were doing down there, but if it weren't for that memory, I have no doubt I'd be setting up camp in a permanent cell right now. I owe you everything, Hermione." When he pulled away, Hermione's eyes were watery for a whole different reason. She beamed at Draco, took Blaise's hand one more, and let herself exist without the huge weight that had been placed on her for years.

The three went to Blaise's flat, celebratory Firewhiskey flowing, and when Draco finally left several hours later, Hermione collapsed happily against Blaise on his bed.

As she groaned, forcing herself to get back up to change, Blaise grabbed her wrist, tugging her back.

"Hermione, I apologize," he murmured, meeting her eyes. "For a bred pureblood, I've got awful manners. I'm sorry about last night."

Hermione swallowed as she realized what he was referring to, keeping her distance.

"You caught me off guard," he went on, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "And I didn't know if you were serious or acting out of some misguided fear or nerves."

"I – I'm not sure," she replied, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. "But it doesn't matter, really, it's fine. It's not as if it was important."

"Quit babbling," Blaise muttered. He turned to face her again, grinning. "It does matter, and it _is_ important."

Hermione didn't reply, biting her lip and attempting to keep her expression neutral. Blaise shook his head in amusement, moving over so he could kiss her. Hermione found herself responding to the familiar feel of his lips on hers, despite the fact that she still felt significantly mortified.

Blaise pulled back, rolling his eyes at her.

"Hermione, if you want to have sex, I'm _more_ than willing." The way his dark eyes smouldered into hers made her feel positively indecent. And the way he spoke so plainly of the topic made her stomach flop all over again.

"Well, I don't know. I've never... well, done _that_ before, and I don't really know... it might be disappointing, is all." She refused to meet his eyes. He stared at her, his mouth open slightly, before he broke into laughter.

"Is that honestly what worries you? It won't be disappointing, you silly girl. How else do you expect to learn?" His eyes flashed with humour. "Don't say through a book."

"I wasn't going to," she murmured, but he laughed anyway.

"Good," he went on. "And besides, you have no idea what you're doing to me just speaking about this as it is."

If Hermione thought she had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to now. She steeled her resolve, turning back to him.

"Fine, Blaise, teach me then." She met his gaze, finally, a wry smile passing her lips. Blaise grinned back, running a hand over her hip, beneath her shirt to touch her bare skin. Her flesh burned.

"Stop thinking, start feeling, Granger. I've got a lot of transfiguration tutoring sessions to pay you back for." He kissed her, slid a hand beneath her skirt, his fingers tracing her thigh. As Hermione felt her heart rate rise erratically, her mind rapidly losing focus as she kissed him back, she felt right.

When Blaise pulled away to lift her shirt over her head, he muttered, "I won't hurt you," and then his voice dropped low, growling, "unless I intend to, of course."

Hermione snorted, tugging him back down on top of her, and for just a fleeting moment she realized she felt completely alive. It was a good feeling.

-

From the very next morning onward, things felt different. They felt better.

Harry and Ron were due to begin their Auror training right away. Hermione, though she felt she would always have a strong kinship with the things they had done in their school years, had no strong desire to continue the trend of near death experiences throughout the rest of her career.

She had enrolled in a course for introductory healing, which was also set to begin the following week. Whether or not she enjoyed it would determine if she would pursue further education in healing. But she was excited.

Blaise, like Hermione, had been receiving daily owls carrying job offers, but he hadn't yet accepted any. The part Hermione found to be the most ironic was that the ministry job Blaise had been seeking when he requested her aid in transfiguration was at the bottom of his stack. When she had asked him about it, he had simply shrugged and said "things change."

He was taking his time in selecting employment. Draco, however, hadn't been actively searching. He had left for France a few days after his freedom had been secured, with almost no warning and no explanation. Following Blaise's example, Hermione didn't question his behaviour.

Then Hermione had come across Parvati one day in Diagon Alley, who informed her that Lavender had moved to France after school was over to visit her mother's family. She had informed Blaise with a knowing smile. He had winked back, as if he had already known.

It was bizarre, to think that Malfoy would be showing legitimate interest in a Gryffindor. In a good way.

Hermione was jolted from her thoughts as Blaise grabbed her hand, leaning in close enough so that she could feel his breath on her ear. She shivered.

"Let's go somewhere," he murmured. Hermione turned to meet his dark eyes, his face lit up in a smile. He was gorgeous.

"Where to?" she asked, smiling back. Blaise shrugged, leaning back against the couch.

"I was thinking I haven't been to Italy in too long," he said, smirking when her jaw dropped. "Have you ever seen Venice?"

"No," she choked out. "Are you serious? I start my course in five days."

"We can be back in five days," he replied, quite seriously.

"I've barely unpacked," she volleyed back, hiding a smile. This much was true; Hermione had moved most of her belongings to Blaise's flat that morning, after he insisted she move in with him.

"All the better, no need to unpack yet," he replied. "Anything else?"

"I don't _think _so..." she trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"Good, let's go," he announced, jumping up. "Maybe we can even make a quick stop in France."

"Wouldn't that be a surprise," she murmured, smiling. "You want to go right now?"

"Yes, why not?" Blaise met her eyes, his sparkling with anticipation. "I'm dying to show you my home country."

"Then I can't wait to see it," she said, softly, biting her lip.

He stared down at her for an extended moment, then pulled her face to his for a searing kiss. When he pulled back, leaving Hermione in a daze, she let the truth sink in. She had meant it, she couldn't wait. For any of it. The weight was finally off her shoulders, and now was the time to start living.

Blaise hadn't looked away. She caught his gaze once more. Definitely, she couldn't wait.


End file.
